First Times
by HugAZombie
Summary: UNBETA'D. AU! A series of different 'Firsts' between our two favourite guys.
1. First Meeting 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__right well, this is a...14 part collection of a bunch of different 'firsts' between Merlin and Arthur. They will vary in length, some will only be a bit longer than a drabble others may be a few word pages, but yeah, (: I quite like this idea. _

**First [Meeting]**

Two different worlds – one of opulence and grandeur and one of full-time work on minimum wage – meet comfortably with two women, old friends, one Ygraine Pendragon and Hunith Emrys. One was a willowy beauty, tall and slim with light blue eyes that glittered as she laughed and gossiped with her old friend. Blonde hair she had, loosely tousled curls bouncing free around her shoulders, wisps floating around her head like a ghost of a halo in the light summer breeze. Her smile was a bright, wide thing – straight white teeth glinting in the sun. She looks like a model, Hunith would think without much jealousy.

Comparison between them came often during their school years, she reflects. And she isn't surprised or resentful of the attention her friend had gotten. She had been born into money; Ygraine had and become the school's poster girl. She was kind and pretty and loved in the same way that Hunith had been a little overlooked by most of the student body, average in looks – never one to turn heads, but perhaps one to attract the gaze of a scant few men ones Ygraine had already turned those heads. But there is nothing wrong with that, she thinks. Some people are just born like that, with the luck of the draw.

"Are you okay Hunith?" The question draws the brunette out of her reverie and she smiles, nodding her head and her hands cup her mug of still warm coffee. They sit in a cute little cafe in London by the park. The prices are higher than Hunith can rightly afford, but it is worth the extra expense to see Ygraine – which is a slightly rarer treat nowadays.

Beside her, her small son, only a few months gurgles in his sleep, stirring. His big blue eyes peer up at her blearily, iridescent things even now, beautiful gems imbedded. It is a mothers' curse to believe her child to be the most beautiful thing in the world, and yet Hunith would swear on every person she knew that Merlin truly is the most beautiful baby boy to grace this planet, with Ygraine's slightly older Arthur a close second.

"Merlin's waking up," Hunith says with a light smile, rising from her seat to gather the tiny bundle of blue baby grow and flesh into her arms before settling. Ygraine looks at the picture with the understanding only a parent can truly understand as Hunith gazes down at her son.

"He is beautiful. Balinor would be so proud," Ygraine says, leaning over the table after brushing the sugar grains from the surface to gaze at the wriggling boy, her own hand steadying on her own slumbering son's pram, as if to ensure nothing happens as her attention is diverted. Hunith glances at her and smiles a little sadly. Merlin is her last tie to the only man she has ever loved – she remembers fondly how excited he had been when she had appeared out of the bathroom holding the pregnancy stick with a bright grin. She remembers how he had picked her up and swung her around in his excitement before darting over to the phone to inform anyone who was willing to listen that he would be a father.

Then a car accident had taken him from them before Merlin had been born – a freak accident that sometimes strike when you least expect it. Hunith smiles, thinking that Merlin has, at the very least, his fathers' nose if nothing else.

"Yes, I believe he would." Merlin reaches up a pudgy little fist, grasping at his mother's hair with a toothless smile and Hunith laughs with him. She rocks him gently, smiling up at Ygraine, who settles back in her seat.

"So have you heard?" the blonde Pendragon starts. "Nimueh has _finally_ gotten into medicine like she wanted, but you know Uther doesn't think..."

They are on their fourth round of drinks – a latte for Ygraine and a simple milky coffee for Hunith – when Arthur stirs from his sleep, a whimpering whine escaping his mouth before those little chubby fists ball up and he is wailing for all to hear.

Ygraine glances at her friend, who is pushing her own son into a lull in his pushchair, who smiles at her sympathetically. The blonde leans over her pushchair with a cooing, "Aw, my poor baby..." She hoists the bundle from his position and tucks him close to her, ducking to a crouch to shift through the baby-bag loaded into the bottom basket – searching for his bottle.

She sits back down, plugging her sons' mouth with the teat of the bottle and shaking her head at Hunith.

"Got a set of lungs on him, this one." She grins, stroking her thumb comfortingly up and down his side as the boy feeds. "Not like your little darling. Maybe he'll be a good influence on my Arthur when they grow up."

"Oh I don't know. If Merlin takes after his father, the boy will forever be coming home with scrapped knees and detentions." The pair shares a laugh and Hunith stands to take Merlin from his pram and slip over to Ygraine, who takes the bottle from Arthur, who looks ready to bawl it again.

"Here you go Merlin, this is Arthur. You'll have to try and keep him out of trouble." Merlin just stares at the boy who is staring at him equally as blankly. Hunith leans forward a bit, so the two babies are within grasping distance of each other, and Merlin is the first to reach out – grasping fingers clenching and unclenching in Arthur's direction, and Arthur simply blinks at him before diverting his attention elsewhere.

Already volumes are spoken about the relationship these two boys will endure in years to come.

/\/\

_Whatcha think. Personally I'm not too sure about this one. But heyho. I'm looking forward to the ones to come. (:_

_Tell me what you think. Or don't. Your choice (: Thanks for reading. _


	2. FIRST Conversation 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Right well the chapters have now gone up to about 18, and some will be linked. This first three are separate, but the next two will be linked, follow on if you will. And that happens majority of ht time to be fair. The longest follow on one is parts 6-11. But hey ho there we go. I thought it to be better if some were linked, then it would make more sense. _

_Sorry, this took longer then I intended to get out because of revision for my psychology exam next week._

_Anyways here is part two, where our favourite guys are chubby little toddlers. _

**First [Conversation]**

Hunith has long since gotten over her slightly sense of discomfort in the Pendragon home. A manor is fitting of their status – a beautiful manor looming up behind a long serpentine driveway, lined by trees as old and majestic as the kings of legends. She has gotten over the minor wince that'd twitch her body when she drops a dainty mug of tea on the coaster a little too heavily, or sweep past a priceless vase that may wobble a little too much on its perch. She has gotten over the slight guilt she has tramping over their expensive carpets in her shoes, with only a ginger wiping at the doorway because oftentimes Ygraine has swept her away, her arm tucked around Hunith and an aluminous smile.

And so it's with a feeling of complete comfort that she steps up to the three steps to the front door of the Pendragon home, her Merlin curled around her hip and nattering happily into her ear about something she doesn't grasp but acknowledges in that sweet way only mothers can truly do. It appeases him anyhow, because at her murmur of assent, he beams at her and continues his one-sided conversation.

He has grown, her little boy. No longer a squirming, slightly skinny baby is he but a pale skinned two year old with a mess of black hair, big, innocent blue eyes and, rather regrettable but adorably, large ears. He is perhaps a little skinny for a child of his age, but Hunith has never been overly worried. His health is excellent, save for a few sniffles that didn't much deter his constant babble and wobbling toddle and subsequent, near constant tumbles (he falls so much that Hunith had taken him to a doctor in case he had an issue with his ears or balance of some kind. It turns out he is just inordinately clumsy – it has now become a source of much guilty amusement) and so she seeks no real reason to worry for his weight just yet.

"Hunith," Ygraine is at the door, thrown it open to reveal the long, well lit corridor. Her eyes twinkle at the sight of her old friend. This has been the first catch up in long over six months, and even then they had been short little meet-ups – Hunith has been working extra and hard and Ygraine has been frittered away on holidays and Uthers' business ventures, playing perfect hostess. "It's been too long."

The friends embrace, a slightly awkward one armed thing to avoid jostling Merlin too much.

"Far too long," Hunith agrees with a smile, stepping over the threshold. Merlin wriggles slightly in her arms, rubbing his nose exaggeratedly as he is carried through into the living room, where his attention is immediately taken by the little blond boy sitting on the hearth beside the empty fireplace by a nice looking dark haired lady. He is pushing a large red fire truck back and forth, mumbling to himself in baby babble that Merlin feel she understands even if he doesn't.

His wriggling becomes more urgent, and he tries to flop out of his mothers' arms dangling over her left arm and whining to be put down. "Alright, alright mister." Hunith shakes her head affectionately and dumps Merlin on the floor, continuing her conversation with Ygraine as Merlin hoists himself up and crawls over to the blond child.

Arthur ignores the arrivals, except for a beaming grin to his mother, before his attention is taken again by the fire engine he moves, back and forth, back and forth. A constant extension and retraction of his arm as the woman encourages him with smiles and laughter.

Merlin then pauses in front of him, regarding the boy with big blue eyes, before grinning so hard in greeting that his eyes scrunch up into happy little slits. Arthur looks up only when the lady – the nanny named Jenny, Merlin would find out when he is a little older – whispers to him and points.

"Not shy, is he?"

Hunith laughs. "No, he'll make friends with anything."

Merlin then crawls a little closer, having received no rejection from the blond boy and pushes the fire truck that Arthur has neglected in favour of staring at this strange boy he has only glimpsed a few times before. Then his face forms a frown and he shakes his head, roughly pushing Merlin away from his toy and babbling to him, disapproval, even at this young age, is thick in his tone. It is quite something to listen to.

Merlin stares at his hand that Arthur had swatted away before he pushes back and replies in that odd language only babies will ever understand – it is one of the more regrettable things children lose as they grow.

Both Ygraine and Hunith bite back their rebukes of such behaviour, only for the look of pure indignation on Arthur's face and Merlin stares at him. The shared utterances are almost _heated; _in fact if the mothers' didn't know better, they would've sworn it sounded like the boy's were _bickering_.

Then Merlin sticks his tongue out and Arthur pouts, turning his back on Merlin with his nose in the air. Jenny glances over to Ygraine and Hunith, hiding her smile. There are a tense few moments between the boys before Merlin inches forward and Arthur turns around at the same time, Arthur looking reproachful and Merlin smiling a little warily.

Arthur speaks first, something that sounds almost reprimanding and he rubs his nose before offering the fire engine. Merlin grins that same beaming smile that is so happy and bright it must be painful, and places the truck between them so they both can play. He only replies then, with a tone of joy –a short reply that could mean anything, be interpreted as anything.

And the boy's play (mostly) harmoniously for the rest of the afternoon.

/\/\

_Not sure on this one again. I look forward to when they grow up a bit more, if I'm honest with you aha. Hope you liked it more than I do (: _


	3. FIRST Day of School 1:2

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__SORRY! This was meant to be out a lot sooner than this, but I've been doing things for University and exams. So sorry for the delay. Also, you may have noticed in the chapter title thingys, and in all future parts it will have either 1:1 or 1/1 this is used just to show you which are linked stories, because I think after this one, there are all more closely linked then just following our favourite guys in little snapshots with a different age each part, so yeah. It will actually have some smaller little things going on. But yeah (:_

_Please enjoy (:_

_PS. This is being added just before I post, I decided to make this a two parter – one from Merlin's POV and one from Arthur's (:_

/\/\

**First [Day of School]  
[1/2]**

Hunith lowers the camera she has been using to capture the momentous morning of her son's first day of school. His hair is a black mess upon his head but even with that, he has never looked so smart. A warm blue fleece is unzipped around his shoulders, revealing a soft white cotton polo shirt with the schools emblem over his. His skinny legs, knees marred by scabs from an over exuberant tree climbing incident a few days before in the park, poke out from the grey shorts, black socks and smart black shoes on his feet.

"Don't you look handsome," she grins and snaps one last picture, Merlin grinning at her before she puts the camera on the side. "Go and grab your book bag and coat please." The boy nods his head and disappears, running to his room. There is a thump and an exclamation a moment later before Merlin reappears, his jumper sliding off one shoulder and a scrape up his leg but brandishing his book bag and coat with pride.

Hunith looks at her son and sighs with a fond smile. She hopes he will never change.

/\/\

The school, for Merlin, is a huge daunting thing, towering over him with the greatness of a dragon and the uncertainty of newness. His mother closes the car door behind him with a slam as he blinks owlishly up at the building that will consume Very Important Playtime for the next forever. His small fingers clutch at the book-bag his mother, rather daringly, entrusted him with, his other hand groping about the empty space next to him to grasp onto his mother in a display of unease.

The building looks frightening. It looks big and plain and ugly. There is little colour, not like his picture books – it looks unfriendly, also unlike his picture books. They showed school with bright yellows and sky blues and cheery children laughing and playing together.

He can't see any children, laughing and playing or otherwise.

His mother takes his hand in her own, the warm familiarity calms the twisting in his stomach – it feels like he is going to be sick, but mother had assured him it was only something called _nerves_ when he had complained in the car.

He walks beside his mother, large, blue eyes staring around him as if at the zoo – a very boring zoo where you had to peer deep into the heart of the enclosures to spot the animals. But even then, the boring zoo would be better, because his mother would be close by and ice cream would be promised.

This doesn't look like a place that would willingly serve ice cream, even in exchange for coins.

Merlin doesn't much like the sound of this 'school'malarkey.

"Come on Merlin," his mother chirps. "We're running a bit late, but I'm sure your new teacher won't mind a bit." Merlin allows his mother to half drag him toward the building. The sliver of excitement that had crawled up his spine upon realising he'll be going to school in the few weeks previous had given way to the sick feeling that makes him uncomfortable.

He doesn't want to be here.

Merlin catches sight of the walls, coloured with ribbed paper of a multitude of colours – blue, pink, yellow and purple – lined with reds and oranges. Work, papers with things written on them, bright paintings and photo's of people and his heart lightens a bit.

Colour. Colour is _good_.

He allows a small smile to override the discomfort.

Finally they come to a stop outside a room. The door is propped open and there are a few grown up people – other mums and dads', Merlin presumes wisely – gathered around and other kids running around. Merlin pauses, tugging on his mothers' hand as he cautiously peers inside.

Colour. Toys. Other children. To his right, there are coat pegs with jackets hanging off of them. Merlin glance sup at his mother, who is smiling encouraging down at him.

"Come on," she says with a grin and Merlin nods and steps inside. First he inches over to the pegs. He finds a free one and releases his mother in favour of shrugging off his coat and carelessly throwing it over a peg. It falls a moment later much to Merlin's annoyance.

It takes a further two attempts to make the coat stay on the peg. Hunith watches with amusement.

The Battle of Great Pegs won triumphantly, Merlin then wanders back to his mother's side. They travel across the rough looking carpet – red and worn and not at all comfy looking – towards a woman who introduces herself as Elena Godwyn – or Miss Godwyn as Merlin is to address her.

He stares up at her before announcing, with pride, "I'm Merlin Emrys," and flashing a rather dashing smile. She looks rather like a princess, he muses. She is pretty, with long blonde hair. Definitely a princess, he decides, grinning up at his mother. "You look like a princess."

"Hello, Merlin," Miss Godwyn replies, kneeling so she is at his level. "What a pleasure to meet you. And thank you very much; _you_ look like a handsome little prince." Merlin grins again, mumbling something incoherent, as his cheeks flush. Feeling the heat he buries his head into his mothers' legs.

There is a comforting pat on his head from his mother as Merlin's hands fist on her skirt.

There is a tinkling laugh and Miss Godwyn straightens herself to talk to his mum about boring grown up things. Merlin then catches sight of another pretty girl – one his age this time – who could also be a princess of some exotic place playing with some dolls and muttering to herself. She reminds him of Princess Jasmine from Aladdin – she too had dark skin and hair, but this girls' hair is nice and curly.

Much prettier.

Pushing away from his mother, Merlin rushes over and drops down beside her ungracefully, all boy-limbs, and grins at her.

"I'm Merlin Emrys," he says proudly.

The girl looks up at him and smiles back, a small smile with a gap where her tooth had fallen out. "I'm called Gwen," she replies, petting the dress the doll is wearing. "Is this your first day too? It is mine. My daddy's over there. My mummy couldn't come because she's sick." She pulls what Merlin assumes to be a 'sick' face. "What about your mum? Is it that pretty lady there? Is your name is Merlin? That's a pretty name, I like that name."

Merlin blinks – he has never known anyone to talk quite so much as this girl, but he likes it. Likes her voice, even if she talks at such a rate he can't quite follow. He just stares at her, listening to her rambling, with a smile on his face. She pets the doll as she speaks: the dress, the hair, its face.

Restless, energetic. Like him. He likes this girl.

"Merlin?" The girl pauses and Merlin looks away. "Mummy's going now. Will you be okay?" Merlin beams and her and grins.

"I've made a new friend!" He declares, as he stands throwing his arm around her waist. "Can she come round?"

"Whoa there, tiger," Hunith laughs. "Not just yet, but I'm sure she can soon. Is that okay?"

Merlin nods his head enthusiastically.

"Good." She crouches down and kisses his nose. "Now, there is someone else here who you know." Merlin blinks up at her peering around the room curiously. Then he sees him and Merlin laughs delightfully.

Hunith gives her son one last hug, but she can tell it is just patiently taking it, waiting until he is free to struggle away and play with Arthur.

As it happens Arthur strides over first after Merlin's mother releases him, chest puffed out with all the pride a Pendragon is supposed to have. Merlin stares at him and giggles.

"You look silly," he declares and Arthur frowns.

"You look sillier." Merlin sticks his tongue out and Arthur wrinkles his nose, before his expression is demanding again. "Play with me. Now."

Merlin sighs, sounding world weary already, and nods. "Only if Gwen can play with us too." He points to the dark-haired girl who is talking to the doll again. "She's my new friend. She can be your friend too, if you're _nice_." Merlin stares at his friend meaningfully and Arthur stares in turn at this new girl suspiciously. The blond Pendragon sighs and nods his head.

"_Fine_," he concedes with a small pout. "She can be our friend. But I'm still your _best_ friend."

Merlin nods. "And I'm yours." Arthur nods and lets Merlin drag him towards this new friend of his as their respective mothers' watch, giggles cupped behind their hands.

/\/\

_They're meant to be about five/six. Not sure if the speech really suits that age. Can you please let me know, because if not I'll edit it accordingly. It's just I don't spend much time around five/six year olds and can't really tell if that is realistic or not. _

_Thank you for reading (: Arthur's part should be out within the next few days. _


	4. First Day of School 2:2

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Erugh, rejected from 2 universities BUT I saw Colin Morgan in his play 'Our Private Lives' HE WAS SO FUCKING CLOSE TO ME! He was like... metres away. The Play was awesome, but unfortunately we didn't stay for autographs...Shame really._

_Enjoy_

/\/\

**First [Day of School]  
[2/2]**

Ygraine smiles at her son as he dutifully chews his toast smothered with Nutella. Uther, the pinnacle of a modern patriarch, she thinks fondly, is sitting beside him, his nose in the newspaper. He snorts derisively at whatever the journalists have to report and Arthur glances at the newspaper and attempts to copy.

Only his scorn isn't quite as dignified and he snorts crumbs all over the table and his once pristine uniform. Ygraine chuckles as the blonde devil pouts glaring at her cheek to laugh at him before smiling widely. Uther takes a glimpse over the edge of his paper, sharing a smile with his wife as she moves around the table to clear up the boys' mess.

His smile is something so rare in vision but frequent in voice and she takes a moment to bask in its singular beauty before his attention is taken by Arthur, who is tugging on his newspaper in a demand for attention. When she next looks over from brushing the crumbs she wiped from the table into the sink, she finds Arthur wriggling into a comfortable position on his fathers' lap as the latter reads with Arthur making a good mimic of his father's serious expression before breaking out into giggles after Ygraine pulls a face.

The image of father and son, Uther ruffling his sons' hair fondly, the boy helping his father turn the large, flimsy pages of the newspaper is something she will never forget. And it soon becomes the picture embedded in her heart to lighten her day in her darkest of moments.

/\/\

The school looks big and imposing. A bit scary, Arthur would've thought if he _was_ scared. But he isn't. Pendragon's don't get scared – they are big and brave and fearless. Like the knights in those books Jenny the Nanny reads to him (for her entertainment of course. Arthur doesn't care for such girly stories, but he is willing to indulge her needs, of course. Like a good Pendragon should).

He stares up at the building with large eyes, leaning forward in his seat a little as the car curves around a corner and slots into a parking space. He chews his lip for a moment, a horrible feeling much like when he ate too many biscuits, curls in his belly, slithering like a snake. But then he thinks of his father, and soothes his face into the best impression of Uther Pendragon he can muster and scares the horrible feeling away.

Pendragons' _always_ win. Even if they are left with the small want to cling to their mothers' hand.

The youngest Pendragon glances over to his mother, who is slipping her jangling keys into her back pocket.

She catches his eye and smiles, head tilted so her hair falls over her shoulder. Her eyes are shrewd, not that Arthur understands the look in her eyes.

"Oh Arthur," she says with a dramatic sigh. "I'm going to be so lonely without you at home... Do you think you could hold my hand? Just to make me feel better?"

The boy blinks before accepting the hand readily. Just to make sure his mother felt better of course. "It will be okay, mother." He smiles up at her and she can't resist a smile back – he really is the spitting image of herself. He is going to grow up to be a heartbreaker. She just hopes he doesn't break the wrong one.

"Thank you, Arthur. I feel so much better now."

His expression is a beautiful picture of pride. The princes always saved and protected the princesses. Jenny's book had said so. Arthur smiles to himself and nods his head in a near perfect impression of Uther when he particularly pleased with a business deal.

The fact that the familiar, comforting contact also worked to soothe his own twisting belly goes ignored.

When they find their way into the classroom, Arthur swallows something not at all nice (much like the gross lumpy mash Jenny had tried to feed him last night, he thinks with a small shudder that causes his mother to rub at his skin a little with her thumb). The room isn't too big, not much bigger than the dining room back at home and a lot messier. The boy wrinkles his nose a little as the sand and paints and doll dresses strewn across the place, with other children his age running and shrieking.

He does the best imitation of his Uthers' scorn as possible until he feels a tug at his hand and his mother is giving him the look that makes another kind of unpleasant feeling burn in his stomach – a mild case of shame; he'll at a later date.

"Now, Arthur this is Miss Godwyn. She is your teacher." The blond boy peers up at the woman, and blinks. She is very pretty – long hair, the same colour as his mothers but not nearly as nice, and blue eyes, also not nearly as glittery and blue as his mothers and a pleasant smile. She isn't as pretty as his mother (no one is prettier or better then Pendragons') but she is close enough.

Arthur puffs out his chest a little, holding out his hand just as his father taught him. "Hello," he says carefully, precisely. "I am Arthur Pendragon."

The lady – miss Godwyn – positively beams and shakes his little hand with delight. "What a nice young gentleman you are."

He feels his mother stroke his hair as she talks – he doesn't really concentrate on her words, in fact, he only does pay attention when he realises another woman has joined the conversation. He looks up curiously, before his grin is back in full force.

He knows this woman. This is Merlin's mother and _that _means Merlin is lurking somewhere in this classroom. A warm feeling of happiness curls about him as Arthur realises he won't be alone during the day because he has his best Merlin with him, and that makes _everything _better.

"Well, I really must be off," Arthur dimly hears his mother say as he tries to find Merlin amongst the other children, ducking and squinting a bit. Then he is turned and his mother is kneeling beside him. "Now, you be a good boy for me, okay? And Jenny will come and pick you up. You can tell me all about your day over dinner."

She leans in and kisses him lightly. "You have a good day now, yes?"

"Bye," he says, still trying impatiently to spot dark hair and bright eyes in the mess of children even as his arms curl around his mother. He misses the look hi and Merlin's mother share over the top of his head before he is released.

"Come on Arthur," says Merlin's mother – a nice woman who lets them have biscuits before dinner and has a weird name, although not as weird as _Merlin,_ of course. "Merlin will be excited to see you."

Arthur smiles and practically bounces by her side – an undignified way for a Pendragon to act but Arthur doesn't really care. And then he spots him, big eared, skinny kneed Merlin sitting beside a dark skinned girl with dark eyes and a pretty smile and he hesitates. A shot of something ugly and painful jabs at his heart and he doesn't quite know what it is except that it is Bad.

Who is this girl? Why is Merlin talking to her? Merlin is _his_ friend. His. No one else's. Who is this girl and what does she think she is doing with _his _Merlin? Is there a bit of fear there? No, Arthur shakes his head and puffs out his chest – he doesn't get scared – just as Merlin's mother stands and his friend stares at him with that goofy grin.

"You look silly." Is Merlin giggling at him? Of course Arthur doesn't look silly – he looks just like a Pendragon should – smart and proud. Merlin looks sillier, he always does. But Merlin only sticks out his tongue when Arthur tells him so.

Arthur wrinkles his nose at the sight of the pointy red thing and glances at the girl staring at him from behind Merlin's back and that horrible feeling jolts through his body. "Play with me," he demands, staring back at Merlin. "Now."

The boy sighs and a small bit of panic settles in his heart before Merlin nods. "Only if Gwen can play with us too." Merlin points to the girl who is muttering to the doll and plucking at her dress. Arthur eyes her with annoyance.

"She is my new friend," Merlin continues. "She can be your friend too, if you're _nice_." The look Merlin gives him a look he is sure means something but ignores in favour of glaring at the girl who dares try to take Merlin's attention away from where it should – on him. And then Arthur sighs and nods his head reluctantly, knowing that if he refused, Merlin would be angry at him and he doesn't want that.

Merlin isn't allowed to get angry with him.

"Fine," Arthur agrees, pouting a little but glowing a bit inside at Merlin's smile (Of course he isn't going to let _Merlin _see that. His father would never do that. Good Pendragons' don't do that). He stares at Merlin a little longer, and coughs, a gesture he has seen his father do when he is about to broach a subject he finds uncomfortable. "She can be our friend. But I'm still your _best_ friend." He doesn't make it a question, because making it a question would mean he wasn't sure. And he is. Of course he is.

Pendragons are _always_ right.

Merlin grabs his hand. "And I'm yours," he confirms brightly. Arthur only nods his head, almost regally but a small smile even his near perfect Pendragon name cannot hide shimmies onto his face and refuses to leave.

/\/\

_Don't much like the beginning or middle, but I quite like the end. Bless Arthur. I'd like to point out that yes Uther is OOC, but I think he would've been different if Ygraine was there to mellow him out. (: _


	5. First Fight 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__The number of chapters just keeps going up and up I swear. I think it's now about twenty- twenty-one, and started off with about fourteen ahaha! Oh well. Never mind. Sorry it's taken so long, been distracted by university stuff and revision. So, I'm going to admit, it won't be uncommon for gaps between my postings to be this long, perhaps longer. I'll try of course, but just so you – It's not that I've forgotten this (it's always on m mind. I'm not even joking! As if my Naruto fic aha) it's just that I'm busy._

_Ooooh, I have also been working on the first chapter of a NEW Merlin fic, which may – if it comes into proper fruition, be the first of a trilogy. But that won't be posted until this is finished. Anyway, enjoy (: _

/\/\

**First [****Fight] **

**[1/1] **

School is a hive of busy, messy bees and just as noisy. Merlin sits at the table in lesson, enjoying the warmth of the streaming in through the window with Gwen seated beside him, chewing on her pen. They have both grown. Merlin has shot up, still lanky with knobbly knees that not even further maturing and growth will fully correct, thin limb and crooked smile. Gwen too is quickly growing up beside him, no longer talking to dolls with intensity, but raging about the latest girl band or boy singer or the books she's read and characters she is in love with. She still gabbles though. It makes Merlin smile.

Nine years old. Almost ten. Almost double digits. Already Merlin feels like a grown up, remembering only a few years ago when Gwen and he first met, but not dwelling on the thought for long. Those eyes of his skim the classroom with an air of boredom. Math has never been his strong point – he often goes home and complains about it to his mother, who will shake her head before sitting down with him and working through the homework with him with a kind smile and gentle prodding towards understanding – and so it had become his allocated Day-Dreaming time. An hour of doing nothing but imagining weird and wonderful adventures in his mind like the films and books he loves.

Gwen is kicking her legs out beside him, listening to the teacher. Pure, underestimated genius, that girl, he thinks fondly. He glances at her work – neat handwriting too. Neater than his appalling chicken scratch that always had his teacher scoring red lines through his English work, not because he was bad but because she simply didn't know _what_ he had written.

She despairs of his handwriting.

Merlin scratches his forehead absently, gaze trailing back to the window. The field is green and just _begging_ him to run out and lay on it, drenched in sunlight. It's a nice day out, the sky a clear blue with only a few wisps of sprawling white cloud and a single seagull wheeling and ducking. Most of its comrades are pecking at the grass in hopes of finding a tasty morsel a little earlier today.

Merlin wonders what it would be like to fly.

If Arthur were here, he would probably mock Merlin for such dreams – thinking the impossible is silly, according to him. But then his upbringing hasn't been as free as Merlin's. Uther, Arthur's father, is an ever present source of tension. Ygraine is like a second mother (not that he needs one. His mum is the best) and the Pendragon home is his home whenever he feels like turning up – but Uther. He is a different story. He makes Merlin tense and nervous. His eyes are dark with a horrible kind of disapproval whenever Merlin's lower class self appears on his aristocratic porch (they learnt that word in history ages ago, when talking about the Tudors. They also learnt about class structure. He knew exactly where he would fit and where Arthur would be. But it made him feel strange – sad, maybe? – to think about it so he had stopped and concentrated on King Henry and his poor wives).

He was strict and intimidating and Merlin couldn't feel relaxed with him around, giving him an once-over and being obviously disappointed every time. Made Merlin frustrated.

So Merlin doesn't blame Arthur for his… _duller_ views, such as dreaming of flying being stupid. He still likes him. They are best friends after all, even if they are in different classes and can only see each other at break and lunch times. Even if Arthur has made new friends in his new class and often hangs out on the field with them – a big group of children just like him. Even if Arthur does tend to ignore him a little bit in school now and acts a little strangely towards him as well.

They are still best friends. He knows this because, yeah, they may not talk so much at school, but they always talk on the way home and at each others' houses. They still laugh and watch films and make jokes.

And it's not like Merlin hasn't made new friends too. He has Gwen, (his _girl_ best friend, but nowhere near as close as Arthur, of course) and another pretty girl named Freya and a sandy haired boy called Will who had come to sit on their table after being late on the first day of this year. They went around in a little foursome, just like Arthur went with his group.

So it was cool. It wasn't like they couldn't have friends outside of each other.

Merlin smiles a little. He doesn't much like Arthur's friends, he'll admit. Valiant is a bit of bully – Merlin had even had some trouble with him, but Arthur had stopped him. Told him to leave him alone and Valiant had. And the others seemed a bit… well. They were just different from Merlin and Gwen's more dreamy ways. That wasn't bad or anything, Merlin's mother had taught him not to judge, but he couldn't help but have some kind of instinctive dislike of at least some of his friends.

"Merlin." There is a poke to his side and Merlin jolts, turning to gaze at Gwen who is smiling at him. He pushes the math textbook so that it is more central between them. "We've got to do exercise four. The division one." Merlin blinks at it and nods his head, pulling a face.

Gwen just laughs and turns a blind eye to his blatant copying, something which Merlin is eternally grateful for.

/\/\

Lunch time had taken far too long to come around, Merlin thinks as he and his friend raise form their seats to grab their lunches out of their bags. The clock room is full of thirty or so children laughing and joking, ferreting through bags or just simply waiting for others who were. Merlin and his friends hang back, waiting for the clock room to clear a little before venturing inside.

"I hate math," Will whinges as he stomps over to his bag. "I can't _do_ it. And _someone_ isn't as nice as Gwen." He glares daggers at Freya who simply smiles, hugging her Tupperware box to her chest. "I don't know why we have to learn it. My granddad says that is stupid. That we don't need math – he never did."

Merlin shrugs. "No matter what your granddad says, we are still going to have to learn it."

"It's all right for _you_," Will counter. "You sit next to Gwen. I sit next to _her_." He pokes Freya's side and she squeals, swatting his hands away with a glare.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so mean," she pouts. "_Merlin _doesn't _poke_ people all the time. Of course we are going to be nicer to him then you, smelly."

Will just sticks out his tongue at her as the four make their way outside to the benches on the grass. Only the older years were allowed in this spot – year four, five and six. The others have to go to the other playground or sit in the canteen. But it is too nice to eat in the canteen – Merlin almost feels sorry for those with School Dinners who have to sit in there whilst they eat. If that was him, he'd be wolfing down his food, not wanting to waste even a second of the nice weather.

Merlin pulls out his cheese sandwich as Freya and Will continue to bicker and Gwen pulls a book from her bag. _'A Series of Unfortunate Events_,' he reads and smiles. He had borrowed those off of Gwen a little while ago and really liked them.

He chews through his sandwich dreamily, occasionally butting into Freya and Will's debate and poking his nose over Gwen's shoulder to see what bit she had gotten to and interrupting her reading with a comment – she doesn't mind. Of course she doesn't. Merlin has yet to see her properly annoyed like he can sometimes get like.

He thinks it will be a scary sight.

He rubs his nose absently, dropping his Kitkat back into his lunch box with the announcement he was going to the toilet.

"If you go by the cloakroom, can you get my drink for me please?"

Merlin smiles at Freya. "Sure."

He dodges a football, tripping a little over his own feet and blushing in embarrassment at the jeers from the players – some in his class, some not – and yet somehow still managing to glare at them a little bit. The name calling isn't in jest like Will or Freya and bullying is something Merlin _cannot _stand.

But he carries on without further incident, locking himself into a cubicle because his sense of privacy and modesty doesn't really allow for peeing in front of others.

He had detoured towards the cloakroom, shuffling through Freya's bag to grab her bottle and is just about to leave when he realises there is someone in the classroom. That isn't allowed. Merlin frowns and is about to poke his head around to see just who it is when he catches the tail end of a comment.

"…suppose so." That's Arthur that is. Merlin smiles a little, shaking his head. If he gets in trouble and Uther finds out… even for something as small as this, the man will be annoyed.

"He is an idiot, Arthur. Why do you talk to him?" Valiant. Merlin wrinkles his nose. Valiant is a moron.

"Because…" Arthur seems little reluctant to answer and Merlin is curious to know who they are talking about. So he hangs back, keeping out of sight and just listening. He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop on their conversation, but he does with only a little bit of guilt.

"He's a complete idiot. Have you not seen his ears?" Valiant scoffs. It's an ugly sound. "Do you keep him around because he can pick up satellite TV?" There is a slightly higher laugh that joins in with Arthur's familiar chuckle and Valiant's laugh and Merlin realises there is more than just Arthur and Valiant in there.

"And have you see his clothes?" that's Vivian. Princess Priss. "Does he have a TV even? I think he is too poor. Probably lives in a shed somewhere. Do you notice things going missing when he comes around your house? My mother says poor people always steal things to sell them later. You better watch out."

There is more laughter. "I'll admit," Arthur concedes. Is there reluctance or regret in his tone? Merlin doesn't know because any thought is drowned by his next words. "Merlin isn't rich, at all. You should see his room. It's _tiny. _His whole house 's not even a house, actually. He lives on the _Elador Estate _in a tiny little _flat_."

Merlin heart stops. It literally pauses mid-beat. There is a roaring in his ears – and pain? Is that pain? God his chest hurts. Is that really what Arthur thinks of him? Does he really hate him? Does he really mock him behind his back?

But they are friends! _Best _friends! That has to mean something, doesn't it? It does to Merlin. Always had.

Oh god, it really hurts. His heart is pained, chugging, choking beats that send aching volts of hurt through him as if it no longer pumps blood only pain.

Vivian shrieks. "Eww, stay away from _him_. Who knows what you'll catch?"

The laughter bites into his ears. Jabbing, cruel. God, there is the faint burning sensation behind his eyes. No. No! He can't cry? That would just be humiliating. That would be worse than all these awful things he just heard.

Arthur can't hate him! Merlin doesn't know what would he do without him! He can't.

But it's there in front of him. Cutting evidence of Arthur hate of him.

He grips Freya's bottle, hurriedly stuffing her bag back on its peg before running away as fast as he can, chest pounding and eyes stinging.

/\/\

Arthur is talking, gesturing with his hands. What is he describing? Merlin doesn't know. Arthur is acting as if everything is okay. As if he hadn't said such mean things about his childhood friend. As if things were _normal_.

Why hasn't he noticed?

Merlin grits his teeth. Arthur is meant to be coming around his house – no sorry, '_tiny little flat'_ – but Merlin finds he doesn't want Arthur there. For the first time in his life, Merlin just wants Arthur to _go away_, to go away and _never_ come back. He doesn't want to see his face, or hear his voice. He doesn't want anything to do with him.

How can he not yet have noticed? Aren't they best friends? They were. What changed? Why did he say those things?

_Why hasn't he noticed__?_

_Do you _hate_ me?_

"… and then Valiant said –"

"I don't care! Just shut up!" Merlin balks, he halts in the middle of the pathway. Had he said that out loud? He hadn't meant to. Not really. He blinks, slowly. No he had. He _had _wanted to say it. Wanted to yell it over and over and over until Arthur realise the world did not evolve around him and that Merlin was _hurting_. Because of _him_.

"Merlin?"

"Just shut up Arthur, you massive _prat_." Eyes flashing, cheeks flaming, fists clenched. Merlin has never felt so angry all at once. God, did he just call Arthur a _prat_? "I don't care what Valiant has to say! I hate him and I hate _you_!"

Arthur blinks. "You _hate _me?" his own face is beginning to flush a little bit. "You hate me. Why? What did I do?"

"I heard what you said about me, thanks," the dark haired boy spits. He is appalled at himself and yet he can't stop. The dam has broken and the village is about to be flooded. "I heard what you really think of me, about how I'm not as rich as you or don't live in a bloody mansion –" if his mum could hear him now, Merlin thinks abstractedly, she would yell at him for his swearing "– or have fancy clothes. And yeah I live on the estate, but if that bothers you so much, why are you friends with me? Why are you coming to my house _now_?"

Arthur opens his mouth to argue, but Merlin steamrollers over whatever comment he may have had.

"I don't _want _you here. Why don't you do back to your poncing castle with your- your _money_ and _jewels _and leave us poor _peasants_ –" Yet another word learnt in history when hearing about the Tudors "– _alone_!"

He is running. Merlin doesn't realise when his feet started pounding across the pavement, but they are and at quite a speed too. There are echoing footsteps behind him, almost as quick, but Merlin ignores them, concentrating on getting home as quickly as possible, preferably slamming the door in Arthur's face as he has seen happen on TV.

It would make him feel so much better.

But he doesn't get the chance to even finish the image in his head before a hand grabs his wrist and yanks him to a stop. Blindly, in a slight panic – fear he realises much later, fear that Arthur would never be his friend again. Oh god, _oh god_, that can't happen. Merlin _needs _him – he shoves the thing clutching away.

He is shoved back a moment later and somehow, just like the running incident, he and Arthur are grappling rather pathetically on the pavement just outside the estate.

Elbows skin, shirts are dirtied, pathetic punches are thrown, connecting without proper force due to the awkward position before Merlin kicks out, catching Arthur off guard and hitching the blond off of him. He can't even remember what happened in the fight – just knows that there was struggling and a bit of pain. Nothing major. It's a blur in his memory even only a few seconds old.

It was happening then it wasn't.

Just like his running.

They are both panting hard. Arthur is still on the ground; Merlin had stood and is glaring down at him.

"What was that?" his voice is incredulous. Arthur had totally started that with his bloody _shoving_. No wait… that had been _him_… but Merlin had only wanted to get away…

Damn it.

"You're an idiot," Arthur says without heat. It's more of a sigh. Merlin's eye flash but the anger has been tranquillised and Merlin is thankful for it. He is just tired now. "I didn't mean it," Arthur says. "I just… it was… I didn't _mean_ it," he ends lamely. And Merlin just sighs, his shoulders drooping before he falls beside Arthur.

Arthur has an apologetic look on his face that will never be voiced. Merlin knows this. He also knows that despite that he will forgive Arthur. Because he looks as though he is being honest and besides, they _are_ best friends. Merlin can't lose him. He just can't. He doesn't know what he'd so without him.

Later, in a few years, Merlin may work out why that is, why the mere thought of loosing Arthur sends him into a panic, but for now he just put it down to the fact that Arthur had been his best and his first friend and so just under his mum in importance. And he hadn't meant what he said. So its okay, isn't it?

"Come on," Merlin says, standing and holding hand out to the blond boy. Arthur looks at it and takes it with a small smile. He doesn't apologise. He won't for a good few years yet. But Merlin doesn't mind. Not really.

Just as long as Arthur doesn't hate him.

/\/\

_Again with the speech. I'm trying to remember how it was I spoke, but I grew up in a rougher place and therefore my language wasn't quite what you'd expect from a nine year old and these guys aren't growing up in the same situation.__ I think this seems a little unrealistic. Is it? …Hmmm…. I have encountered name calling like this before, specially the poor comments and even the stealing thing, but the girl was a spoiled cow, only child (not saying all only children are spoiled, I know many who aren't, but she was)_


	6. First Doubt 1:2

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Ah! I just keep getting more and more Merlin Fic ideas. I have posted a new one, a Distopia!AU with a gangsterish-Arthur and dark themes. It is angsty, involves darker versions of the characters, violence and drug usage. I have the idea all mapped out ;) Check it out if you want, it's called "Wheel of Fortune" although that is subject to change. _

_After this series is finished, I'll post a fairly short series (maybe, haven't planned it out yet. THIS was supposed to be short, but it keeps changing aha) involving a paraplegic (disabled) Arthur – Inspired by my father, so watch what you say ahaha – and I'm not yet sure what Merlin will be, probably a sweet little boy working in Arthur's favourite coffee shop to pay his way through Uni. Why? Because Merlin working in a coffee shop just tickles my fancy for some reason ahahaha. Besides, I know I'd love to get served coffee by Colin Morgan Oooh, going to see his film 'Island' on the 25__th__, I'll tell those who are interested how it is and stuffs :D) _

_Sorry for taking so long. Revision and all that. _

_Enjoy my darlings. _

* * *

**First [Doubt] **

**[1/2] **

Merlin never thought year nine of secondary school would suck so much. It isn't the company that annoys him – Freya, Will and Gwen were still his friends, with the new addition of a boy named Gilly who had moved to town only last year. It isn't even really the lessons, with the abolishment of SATS tests he doesn't really have to worry about useless exams at the end of the year that has no real effect on anything except his school career. He does perhaps, have to consider what lessons he can stand taking for his GCSEs (P.E. is definitely not one he is willing to take as a GCSE, that's for sure) but even that isn't a huge worry.

No, what made his year so annoying is Arthur. Shouldn't really come as a massive surprise, he thinks. Arthur has always been the main source of his headaches, with his holier-than-thou attitude and disregard for other people. Not that he isn't nice, because he can be one of the nicest people around, it just humility doesn't come easy to him.

Merlin would love, on quite a few occasions, to shove a slice of humble pie down his throat and watch him choke on it.

Today is one of those days. In fact, the past week or so has been just one elongated, festering moment like that. Merlin isn't too sure why, but he thinks that just maybe it has something to do with the Vivian girl Arthur seems intent on wasting his life on.

They are just so _infuriating_.

For Pete's sake, they are _fourteen_, and yet both of them are declaring loud '_forevers_' and '_I love you's' _as if sentiments were going out of fashion and _kissing_ in the bloody _hallways_ where _anyone_ can walk in on them.

Anyone's including Merlin.

That had been far from pleasant. He had been asked by the science teacher covering his geography lesson to run over to science to pick up the worksheets that he had left there, intending to bring them along for this lesson. Merlin agreed, of course, why wouldn't he? It wasn't a great hardship.

He had just turns the corner, scratching his nose absently, when he saw them. It was during lesson time, so Merlin was first struck with the thought of _'why aren't they in lesson?' _ Then it registered what they were doing.

Necking. In the hallway. Completely unashamed. If Merlin had been a little more naïve or younger, he would've assumed Arthur was _eating_ her face. It was not something he had wanted to see, and had, for some reason made him feel all the more hostile towards Vivian who had, really done nothing to him, ever.

He didn't say anything he remembered, just ducked his head down and brushed past, hoping they'd be gone by the time he made the journey back.

They had been, but the resentment and annoyance swirling in Merlin's gut like a winged parasite hadn't. It lingers even now, as he glances over to the table at which Arthur and his friends sit, Vivian practically crawling onto his lap like a leech, laughing at something Sophie or Sophia (whatever her name) has said.

Disgruntled. Merlin is disgruntled. Ever since this Vivian came onto the scene, Arthur had been pushing Merlin out. It was like that incident when they were nine all over again – Arthur does this, pushes Merlin aside when better offers come along. Merlin knows he shouldn't put up with it, not really, but Arthur is not a bad guy. It only happens in school, when he has an image to protect, and besides, it's not as if Arthur hasn't stuck up for him when the bullies tried to have a go, or the P.E teacher decides to try and humiliate him just because he isn't the most coordinated student under his care.

But with this girl it's different. Even back then, they'd hang out after school, would meet up at lunch times. Sometimes Arthur would come and sit with him and his friends, accepting that Merlin would feel uncomfortable with his friends. He got along with all of them, even Will had warmed up to him.

But Vivian had tipped the balance. Now when Merlin called, he would get an impatient answer and short comments, her voice in the background – whining. His invites for Arthur to come over were brushed off, with vague explanations of Vivian wanting to do this or that after school instead.

He no longer cam and spent some time during lunch, just stayed at that table with Vivian wrapped around him like cheap cologne, a whore before her time.

He is being replaced. By a _girl_.

And it more than irritates him. Somewhere it hurts hurts more than it should. There is an ache every time Arthur lets him down, and yeah, this may sound like something you'd expect from Gwen's romance books, but it is true. Merlin feels as though he is losing Arthur and he _hates_ it.

More than that, he fears it.

The hostility he feels towards Vivian is more than jealousy, more and anger and frustration – it is some big, black, scary amalgamation of all these things. It seethes within him, a beast out for blood.

_How dare she?_ It seems to shriek. _How dare she touch him so casually? How dare she takes what's _ours_?_

This intensity, these thoughts frighten him. He knows the implications, how they could be misconstrued. You cannot go to secondary school and not understand what these thoughts could possibly point to.

But that is ridiculous. Of course. He feels this way because Arthur is his best friend, his first friend. Anyone else would feel the same if in his situation. Of course they would.

Wouldn't they?

God, he hates her, _loathes _her. For the first time, he genuinely wants to hurt someone – placid Merlin, always trying to see the best in people, wants to hurt someone. How _dare_ she make him doubt himself, make him doubt Arthur and their friendship. How _dare _she make his clearly precarious place in Arthur's life so _fucking obvious_!

Merlin runs a hand down his face and lies back against the pillows of his end once he gets home from school that day, without a single word or even a look from his supposed best friend.

What the fuck is happening to him?

* * *

_Not sure how this sounds, so me it seems quite disjointed. I'll look over it at a later date though. Hope you liked it. I don't mean to make Arthur out to be such a bad guy, but Merlin is annoyed with him and so is thinking the worst. He isn't the most reliable person to believe right now ahaha. _


	7. First Revelation 2:2

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Gahh, I hate revision. It takes my time away from more enjoyable things, like writing this (: I have finally settled on the amount of chapters this will have – 20. And maybe a one-shot follow up, but I'm not sure about that. Um... yeah, nothing to really note I think. This turned out differently to my plans. There was meant to be a bit of confrontation between Arthur and Merlin, but it Gilli just took over. Oh, on the subject of Gilli, I hope his characterization is okay. He is only in one episode and he is quite hostile for most of it towards Merlin, but this is comin from how it is in the last bit. I hope he is okay in this, please tell me honest opinions. _

_I love Gilli. He doesn't get enough love. _

_Lastly, apologies for the long waits between parts, I'm not dead, just really busy (:_

* * *

**First [Revelation] **

**[2/2] **

The heat is noticeable – more than noticeable. Sweats beads on his forehead and prickles down his spine. His eyes are closed, a burnt red smearing across the black canvas of the back of his eyelids. Beside him, Gwen and Freya discuss _Doctor Who_, mooning over David Tennant and his quirky ways, his smile and the cuteness of his actual Scottish accent hidden behind a good imitation of the British accent. Will is absent, supposedly off with a stomach virus but Merlin suspects that he simply couldn't be bothered to attend. He could be like that sometimes, but then so could Merlin, the only difference being that Will's mum let him get away with it whilst Hunith always seemed to know when Merlin was faking. She could even anticipate it.

It was an annoying ability.

Gilli is stretched out beside him. The boy has only been here a few months and yet he slotted in with the group as if he had always been there, one of the originals following up through primary school. He belonged with them and Merlin felt, that somehow, somewhere they had an added understanding, something unspoken and something Will hadn't been happy with. Merlin doesn't know what it is, but it's there – a connection that he and Will would never have.

They sit in companionable silence. There is the squeal of wheeling seagulls overhead, awaiting the opportune moment to swoop down and snatch a left over crust or crisp from the grass. The groups of boys at a way away playing football roar and someone scored. Arthur is one of them, Merlin is sure, perhaps he had scored? Arthur prides himself on his football skills, frequently playing with friends in the park or just when bored in his garden, improving his skills.

Football is something his father appreciates, something he has respect for and therefore Arthur has a respect for it and a need to immerse himself in it. Does he truly love it as he says? Merlin can never really tell, Arthur can be so easy to read on some things yet on others it's like struggling through a French book with no knowledge of language.

"What's been on your mind recently?" Merlin jumps at the voice, turning his head, his eyes scrunched up against the sun even at the new angle and he stares at Gilli. There is a random patch of colour that blurs the centre of his vision before it clears. The other boy is sitting up now, elbows rested on his upright knees as he gazes down at Merlin, a thoughtful, concerned expression on his face.

Merlin shrugs and settles back into position, slipping his arms behind his head to cushion it. A soft breeze kisses his face and arms, caressing the lower part of his stomach that has been exposed by the rising of his shirt. He can feel the gaze from Gilli, almost heated in its intensity.

"Nothing much."

The boy scoffs. "Please. Something is eating you. I'm no fool." Merlin shifts a little, a vague sense of relief as the burn of his friends gaze lifts as he looks away, skimming the field, focusing in the odd person before moving on again. Merlin is dimly aware that the conversation between the girls has ceased and the four sit in silence.

"Merlin…" those are Gwen's careful, sugary tones. He tilts his head to show he is listening, although there is a vague swirl of annoyance in his gut. "We are worried about you." Merlin can almost see Freya's empathic nod of her head even with his eyes closed.

"You haven't been yourself," she added and there is a shift of grass and fabric as Freya alters her position slightly. There is more silence, this one a little tenser. Merlin, usually so grateful for the concern his friends show him, feeling a warmth curling through his blood at the thought feels only irritation now. He doesn't know why.

"It's to do with Arthur, isn't it?" Merlin eyes fly open at Gilli's soft accusation, regretting the action when he is near blinded by the sun. He flips himself over onto his stomach and glances over at the brunette boy beside him, eyes still forward and overlooking the school. The girls move a bit and Merlin glances at them, his customary grin in place.

"It's nothing, just Arthur being a humongous prat, as _usual_," he says cheerily, waving his hand dismissively. Even as he speaks, Merlin manages to catch sight of Arthur up ahead, blazer and bag making up one of the goal posts at the right end of the make-shift pitch, he darts along, ball at his feet and makes a impressive pass to someone else – Lee or Leon or whatever.

Well it seems impressive to Merlin who can't kick a ball in general let alone aim it at someone near perfectly.

Freya laughs. "Well, _duh_. We gathered that much. When is he _not_ a prat?" Merlin cracks a smile and ducks his head in agreement.

Over his head, unnoticed by him as he absently watching the game a good few yards away, Gilli throws a look to Gwen. Their eyes collide and Gilli tilts his head and jerks it in the direction of the school, both Freya and Merlin remaining ignorant as their conversation steers towards sport and the P.E. teachers. The fair skinned female had since settled beside him, pointing out the odd boy running ahead, only just recognizable and sharing whatever gossip she had overheard with him.

Gwen glances between Merlin and Gilli, her gaze softening on the former. She loved Merlin in a strictly platonic way – happy, amusing, clumsy, and intelligent. He was fun to be around, and more than a decent friend. Forgiving, maybe a too forgiving, but then Gwen knew that she too was guilty of that crime. They had both forgiven Arthur his trespasses more than they probably should have.

It hurts her little to know that Arthur is usually the cause of Merlin's rare bad moods. They had been so close in primary school but then they started to grow up, and even in the more impressionable ages of nine and ten, they started to drift apart, the differences in upbringing oozing through the cracks like poison. Uther's high expectations and Ygraine's desire for her son to go to an ordinary school for an education that Uther deemed, both privately and vocally, for a Pendragon conflicted and sought to separate the trio, but it was hitting Merlin and Arthur the most.

They had always been close.

"Freya, come to the toilet with me."

"Hmm? "The girl turns away from Merlin, who is sniggering into his hand now. "Sure." She gets to her knees, brushing off her skirt and frowning at the imprints of grass on her legs. "See you in a minute, guys."

Merlin waves at her before turning to Gilli. "Why do girls need to go to the toilet together?" he asks, with a shake of his head. "It's not exactly difficult."

The boy shrugs. "Girl thing, I guess," he says with a smile. There is a long silence as Gilli swings his body around so that he is sitting next to Merlin, watching the game just as Merlin is. "You know…" his voice trails off and Merlin quirks his head towards him questioningly, sparing the boy a glance before returning it back to the field. He isn't even watching the figures darting about the field with more agility than he could hope to possess. It's more just something to watch, like study ants trailing in a line.

"It's not a terrible thing." Gilli's voice is near silent now and Merlin frowns at him, leaning a little on his side.

"Huh?"

Gilli shifts, clearly a little uncomfortable but determined. "It's not a terrible thing."

Merlin blinks at his friend. "Yeah… what is?"

"You know."

Clearly, Merlin thinks, he does not. "Are you all right Gill?"

"Merlin." Is that slight irritation? Exasperation? "I _know_."

At least one of us does, Merlin thinks.

"Know what?"

Gilli actually growls, rubbing a hand down his face. "God…" he grumbles. "Are you really going to make spell it out?"

"Considering genuinely has no clue what you are talking about, yeah."

Gilli throws him a dirty look, a faint blush on his cheeks. "I know… I know you – well, that you have _feelingsforArthur_," he forces out eventually. "And it's cool, you know. You don't… you don't have to, I dunno, worry or… freak out or something."

Merlin has gone back to blinking slowly at his friend. "Um… _what_?"

"It's not like any of would care. I mean, I already knew and I reckon the girls might have idea. Maybe. Probably not Will, though. He is a bit slow on these things." He clears his throat. "So yeah, don't worry."

"Er… Gill, mate," Merlin has sat up now. "I'm not – I mean, I don't… You've got it wrong."

The brunette looks surprised, an eyebrow raised. "Really? I could've sworn… I mean, you guys are so _obvious_. You talk about him all the time, whether it's bitching or not, you whine when he doesn't spend time with you and dude, I've seen the way you look at him. It's similar to the way that Will pines after Freya."

Merlin feels his cheeks burn. "I do _not_!"

Gilli just stares at him.

"And I don't _whine _about him or talk about him _all_ the time." He glares at Gilli. "You're nutty."

"No, just… you know, _understanding_." It isn't only Merlin's cheeks sizzling in the sun now. Merlin pauses, studying his friend whose eyes are strictly averting to the grass, his fingers absently picking at it.

"So… you're, well, you're – you know." Gilli doesn't speak, only nods his head.

"Oh…" it more a breath than a word and Merlin looks away to the field once more, not quite knowing what to say or do. What does one do when a friend outs himself? Is there an Outing Etiquette he should follow?

"That's… well, that's cool you know." Merlin says, thinking that if he ever hears the phrase 'you know' again he may hurt someone. There is another silence, a bit more awkward this time. Tense.

"Thanks." A small mumble.

"So… um… why'd you think I was… you know?" Merlin cringes a little at the phrase, and being belated glad that Gilli missed the look for fear he may have misinterpreted it. "Like that."

Gilli finally glances at him with a half shrug. "I dunno, just did. The way you act, the mood you've been in since he got with that Sophia bird, the way you stare after him." Gilli smiles suddenly. "You're like a pining Gwen gazing after Lance."

Merlin looks horrified and he throws a weak punch at his friends' arms. "I am _not_!"He pauses, staring at his hands. "Am I?"

Maybe that… maybe it is an acceptable explanation. He had thought his attachment to Arthur was perhaps a little strange, Uther certainly did. Did the intimidating man pick up on the same thing that Gilli has apparently found? He does feel something black and ugly in his stomach at the mere thought of Arthur with Sophia, or any girl for that matter – something beyond simple jealousy. He knows jealousy, felt a bit of it when Freya was showing around a new girl and ditched them a few times before the girl went off with another group. That had been irritation, he remembers, a aggravation low in his gut

But this… this is more of an ache, a pained, constant ache that twanged whenever Arthur waved away an invite back home or whenever he interlocked hands with the girl or Merlin saw them even just talking without any of the sickening display.

Was that because of attraction? Merlin would easily admit Arthur is good looking. A constant stream of sport both in and out of school has kept in shape and healthy. He has the perfect boy looks, blonde hair, smooth skin, long noble nose and nice blue eyes. Aesthetically. His mother had always taught him to appreciate aesthetics, like art and such. So it doesn't matter that the appreciation has stretched to people, that is normal right?

And so what if his appreciation is a slightly bit different to say his absent acknowledgement of Freya delicate prettiness, or Gwen's homely beauty or Will's rough good looks. Abstract, passing musings that filter through one's mind when one looks at someone. So what if, okay, maybe he did spend a little bit of time just watching Arthur. Not in a creepy way, just if he was pottering around the kitchen in search of food or sitting in his direct eye line in class, eyes lazily tracing the movements.

Surely that is just boredom, looking for something to distract him, mindless staring and absent of thought. It isn't like he tracks the boys every movement like some lovesick _girl_.

And yeah okay, it may stings a little bit more and Arthur brushes him off for his other friends or even for his family than it does when Will's done the same thing, and in a different more fragile place, but that's just because he and Arthur are best friends. Right?

_Right?_

"Oh, fuck it."

Gilli nods and pats his shoulder, understandingly.

"I know."

* * *

_Whatcha think? I think Gilli is a bit out of character, but heyho. What did you think of me making them both 'you know' xD Though I switched places, Gilli is the [only slightly] more experienced one rather than Merlin xD_

_Tell me what you think. Be as brutally honest as you wish. _


	8. First Embrace 1:4

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Hm, and so we have the next one. I can't believe I am on 8 already. You guys are all amazing, thank you so much for sticking with me. This has had two chapters added to it, and so now the grand total of chapters it should have should be 22. Maybe. It may change. And the series as a whole should have 23 parts as I am planning a short one shot to go afterwards. :]  
Now, I think it was __**not bitter just twisted **__asked for something in Arthur's point of view and this part would be the most appropriate in Arthur's POV, and you'll see why when you read it.  
Also, __**Kentex4 **__there is a chapter in which I could change and edit in order to grant your wish ;] Didn't think of it before, but yeah. I think it could work aha That if anyone else wouldn't mind a little bit of Gilli/Merlin going on aha. __:]_

_Anyway, enjoy and thank you so much. _

* * *

**First [Embrace] **

**[1/4] **

The clouds are a thick grey smear, blotting out the sun like jealous school children ostracising the smart kid. A miserable mist of drizzle soaks through skin and clothes, creating small puddles of icy water on the pavement. A few leaves from the tree crowding overhead, twisted and crippled like a witch from a fairy story, lay crushed and powered on the wet ground. It's a grim day, the abysmal pathetic fallacy a harbinger of grimmer news.

Arthur stares up at the sky, the bitter wind biting at his skin inconsequential. Nothing. Teeth of ice flaying him like a whip, nothing but a signal that his body is still somehow alive, somehow functioning. He takes no real note of his surroundings – of the dim, darkened shadows as night falls over the grey day; the faint glow of warmth from the houses that hug the streets; the odd car blinking in and out of sight in mere moments. Inconsequential occurrences. Nothing upon more nothing.

His feet are moving, this he knows. And somehow, a detached part of his brain knows exactly what direction they move in. He ignores it though, focusing only on the movement of his feet, the constant, slow dragging of left-right-left-right. New shoes, white trainers with barely a mark on them. Sodden through from the puddles he hasn't noticed and the rain that continues to fall.

This is easy to think about. Easy. Focused. Consequential. _This_ means something. It means he is still alive. His heart still beats. His lungs still expand. His brain still thinks.

His existence continues.

He doesn't notice how he gets here. The hallway shows a little damp in the corner and the building as a whole is hardly a picture of adequate architecture. But the marked walls brace the door to a different kind of home, one not so pressured or heavy. One where breakables are either placed out of the way or not worth a tear if they fall, where flour fits are commonplace of an evening should she chose to bake. This is a place where leaving clothes on the floor is not meet with punishment but a shake of the head maybe a light-hearted tap on the head. A place where it doesn't matter if the homework is perfectly done, as long as it was understood and completed.

A place where anyone can feel warmth and love.

He doesn't deserve to be here. Not even now when grey colours his face ashen and grief steals his very breath. What right does he have to linger here, in the flickering light of the hallway knowing what he does?

He won't even try the denial game. He has been an arse to his old friend. He knew they would travel in different circles, his father had said so. He had told him that Merlin wasn't the _right_ calibre of boy to be playing with, that he wasn't the sort to like. He thought that lower class somehow meant filthier. Dirtier. Lower.

_Not the right kind. _

But his mother hadn't cared. Doesn't. Hadn't. She would always hug Merlin, welcome him graciously into their home and whisper secrets with him. Always delighted in his smile. In Hunith's conversation.

_She_ hadn't thought they were the wrong calibre of people to talk to.

But his father… No, the blame game is stupid. He could've ignored his father's words, carried on with what he knew and his mother encouraged. But the fact remains he has idolized his father for so long, that even a hint of his disapproval shakes Arthur to the core.

It fills him with dread and regret and displaced anger.

He knows, Christ, he knows he has done some bad things in his life, made bad choices by Merlin. And he does regret them, now more than ever. Now, when he doubts that Merlin will let him in. And he is disgusted that he even dares to doubt.

And yet, he wouldn't blame Merlin if he did turn him away.

Swallowing, Arthur knocks on the door. The front of his white shirt is soaked to transparency, his blazer hanging off one shoulder, his tie lose about his neck. He looks so far from the perfect student he emulates that when Merlin does eventually open the door, one hand holding the house phone to his ear and the other on the door handle, he just stares.

"Uh, Gilli? I'm going to call you back." The conversation is ended and the phone discarded before Arthur can blink. The boys stare at each other and Arthur can feel the tears welling up behind his eyes, tears he had refused to shed at the hospital lest his father call on his weakness. Vulnerability he had carefully walled up crashes through the brickwork, shattering his defences and plundering the numbness for any and all sorrow lurking within the darkness.

Grief. Sorrow. Guilt. Pain.

"Jesus." Is that Merlin? He thinks he feels the wetness of escaping tears on his cheeks. He thinks he feels the hot burning of crying behind his eyes. He thinks he feels his heart breaking into one thousand and one razor slices.

And he knows he feels Merlin's arms around him in awkward comfort. He knows he can hear Merlin's slightly desperate hushes and indistinguishable, oddly soothing words. He knows he can feel warmth bleeding from one body to another. A security to appear weak, to break down and truly mourn shrouds him in a strange, detached calm.

He can feel himself moving; hear the worried questioning of Hunith who has yet to receive the call from his father. He can feel the abstract softness of the sofa pillows. He can smell a freshly showered Merlin, fruity – a girly product lifting from his skin that is probably his mums'. He can feel Merlin's breath on his neck as the boy whispers nonsensical things, sometimes so close and gentle, sometimes a bit distant and half frantic.

Arthur doesn't deserve this warmth, this comfort but, damn, does he want it. He clutches to Merlin, needing this, needing him – someone who'll allow this darkness, this weakness and hold him all the higher for it. He need Merlin, more than he knows. More than he will ever truly acknowledge, and it's in that moment, however distractedly, that Arthur realizes.

"What happened, Arthur?" Words pressed to his neck. In another moment, at another time, Arthur would note how those lips brush his skin. But now is not the time. One revelation at a time.

He chokes on his words, throat constricting with the threat of bile and vomit. "She's _gone_…" Barely hissed into his best friends' clavicle. "_G-God_, My… My mum's…"

He doesn't hear Merlin's sharp intake of breath or his shuddering exhalation at the news because Merlin distracts him from it. He doesn't notice Hunith's pained gasp or half concealed sob because Merlin covers it with his own words of comfort, never letting his own pain shine through.

And his hold only tightens around Arthur, holding him, Arthur thinks, at the seams so he doesn't fall apart. And Arthur isn't sure he ever wants Merlin to let go, because without him, Arthur doesn't know how to survive.

* * *

_Eh… so so. I thought it would turn out better. It will be on the list of one to be rewritten if I ever get around to it.  
Hope you enjoyed :]_


	9. First Funeral 2:4

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__FINALLY – the exams are over and I am here and ready to cater to your whims. I am hoping that by the time University has come around this series will be finished and probably another has been written to take its place. Just a little note to say thank you to everyone who wished me luck for my exams :] It was much appreciated. _

_Side note, never actually been to a funeral so I kinda winged it. Sorry if it's sorry it's shorter than usual, I usually, for this story, hit at least the 1000 word mark for I never wanted this to be too large a part. So apologies for that aha.  
_

_I hope you enjoy. _

* * *

**First [Funeral] **

**[2/4] **

It isn't supposed to be like this. Not this. The rain is pattering a sorrowful melody atop the wooden coffin his mother now rests in – her final bed to sleep away forever.

It isn't supposed to end like this.

The grey clouds of the winter day congregate to witness her burial, to witness her reunion with the earth, the wooden box suspended above the dank, dark hole as if pausing in momentary thought of the memory that remains.

He watches with stoicism that would make his father proud. Fifteen years he shared with that woman. Fifteen years of warm hugs when he was frightened, gentle smiles when he glanced at her, beautiful laughs when he joked and bantered. Blue eyes had sparkled with such life, such vibrancy but they are dead now – dull sapphires that no longer shine in the light.

Something clenches in his chest – a knot, tightening, thickening until he is choking on it. He closes his eyes against the sight, against the weeping sky and all its mourning. He closes his eyes against the tearful guests, the lowering casket, the phantom reminiscences.

A hand encroaches on his – damp, cold fingers curling around his own, supporting, knowing. A spark of something in his chest that dies soon after, a flame doused by reality. Still he seeks comfort from that hand, squeezing the fingers in a childlike desperation: it becomes his anchor, that slowly warming flesh around his own chilled hand – cold as death.

Fifteen years is not long enough.

His father is bleak. A grey ashen pallor only make the blue of his eyes stand out – clear as day and bound shut. No emotion is seen there, but Arthur knows. Christ, he knows. He can feel the tremble of his fathers' skin from where he sits, mere inches away. He can see, should he open his eyes once more to the cruelties of life, his fathers' hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white with the effort and veins blue and protruding with the cold that cannot be fairly attributed to the weather.

He breathes heavily through his nose in an effort to delay the tears that burn like bile behind his eyes – acidic pain that haunts him like a ghost.

Fifteen years and so much he misses.

God. There is agony, blazing through his veins like a poison. It burns within him – rage, confusion, loss, sorrow. How dare she leave him? How dare she just die like this and give up on life? Why did she leave him?

Why?

He swallows – a lump is in his throat and a swelling in his chest. He quickens his breathing, harsh huffs through his nose in an attempt to clear the threat but all it does is beckon it closer.

His fathers' hand rests on his shoulder for but a moment before it once again drops to that white-knuckled grip in his lap. Soon the man stands and still his fist is clenched, one in heartbreak, the other around dirt.

The sob catches him unaware, forcing up through his throat like razorblade vomit, tumbling from his trembling lip, before getting lost in the downpour.

_Earth to earth_…

Arthur is meant to follow, Merlin and Hunith, as close family friends after. The dirt is gripped between numb fingers.

_Ashes to ashes…_

An unsteady, shuddering breath and the feel of fleeting heat as Merlin presses forward a bit closer than necessary, grounding him, reminding him – he will always be there, now and forever.

He throws the dirt onto the casket – his voice is a small broken thing, cracking on his words as if suffocating: "Goodbye mother."

_Dust to dust…_

Those fingers never once let go of him. They are never acknowledged, and, after the service, neither will mention them. But neither will they ever be forgotten.


	10. First Drink 3:4

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Okay so I have a dilemma. One reviewer is dead set against Gilli/Merlin and another really wants it – nothing heavy because this is a Merthur fic, obviously they are the OTP of 'Merlin' but I really would like other peoples opinions, please and thank you. _

_Um... the chapter number has gone up AGAIN so we are now on a grand total of 23 chapters. _

_I realise that there has been no mention of Vivian in this so far, but don't worry I haven't forgotten about her._

_Anyway, enjoy._

_PS To find out about any new fics I may be planning, I have started writing updates on my profile, if you are at all interested. If not ignore this and on with the story :] Hope you all have pleasant day.  
_

* * *

**First [Drink] **

**[3/4] **

Hazy. Spinning. The taste of fruit in his mouth – how? When? Where? There is a spongy, damp something soaking through his trousers, but he doesn't care. Why should he care when his mother is gone? Gone forever.

Fucking abandoning _bitch_.

No! No, wait. He doesn't mean that. He doesn't – he loves her. Loved her. Loves her. Past tense. Present tense. What does it matter now when he can't hear him anymore?

He opens his mouth to speak, can't find the words and closes it again. There is a body beside him, close enough to touch yet far enough away that he can't properly feel the heat – why does that disappoint him?

"_Mer_lin..." in inability to move his mouth properly results in an elongated 'R' sound, even as his bleary eyes take in the silhouette beside him.

MerlinMerlinMerlin. Nice Merlin – always there for him. Even when he has been a dick. Always a dick.

"Arthur." There are no oratory problems for Merlin. Arthur giggles a little at that. Oral. It strikes him as funny for some impossible reason and he giggles – but the giggle catches in his throat and bleeds, brokenly, into a sob.

"She's _gone_..." He goes to lift the second bottle of wine (stolen in passing, not that his dad will notice) to his lips. He's never really drunk before and this wine has gone straight to his head.

"I really think you should stop now, Arthur." Merlin, fucking _Merlin_ is telling him what to do – like he is his _mother _or something.

"My mother is fucking d-dead, don't try... to–to..." the alcohol is muddling his brain, scrambling the words he wants. "Don't try to tell me... what to do, you bastard." His words are slurred, mispronounced and a bugger to say. Merlin barely bats an eyelash and just takes the bottle from Arthur's hand.

"I'm not," he says in that quiet, soothing voice – trying to calm a frightened animal.

It infuriates him.

"Fuck you Merlin," he hisses, shoving away the hand his friend tries to touch him with. "_Fuck_ you." He watches his friend close his eyes for a moment, as in prayer before they open again. And then Merlin is touching him again and pulling him into an awkward hug.

"Scream, cry and insult all you want, Arthur. You can't bottle this up – it's not healthy."

Arthur attempts a snort but it is just another sob. "What d-do _you_ know, _M-Mer_lin?" He feels the shrug. They lapse into silence, Arthur trying in vain to keep the tears and choking sobs anchored inside. The alcohol makes it impossible.

"She w-was in a car accident, you know." He does – the whole fucking country knows after it was reported in the news. The barely healed anger creeps up his skin. And he shoes a little away from Merlin, focusing with a bit of difficulty on his friend. Who stares earnestly back at him. "The fucking Sun put it after the page three model – how fucking dare they? My mother deserved better than The Sun*, _bastards_."

He settles back again, heavily falling against the smaller Merlin to struggles to catch them both. "Car crash...died on the operating table..." his eyes closed, exhausted from the day and Merlin's heartbeat is a strange kind of lullaby. "Mum's friend, Nim-Ni-Nih... _Nimueh –_ was meant to save her. Save her. She let her fucking _die_, stupid goddamn bitch.

She _killed_ my _mother_..." Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. "She fucking killed her...my mothers' dead – what do I _do_ now?"

Sleep sounds good. Merlin chest is rising and falling in steady breaths, his heart beating out a melody. Stupid girly thoughts – god, he shouldn't drink. He becomes a girl. He giggles a bit, a strange choking giggle that doesn't feel humorous at all.

His mother could help him. His mother could help him with everything.

But she's gone, she's gone, she's gone. No one else here.

Except alcohol.

"No, Arthur. You have had enough."

"Shhhh-ut up Merlin. You know nothing."

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Arthur feels himself getting hoisted upwards and an arm wrap around his waist. His legs feel like jelly and he leans heavily on his friend. Walking seems like such a _chore_... he staggers a bit and Merlin grabs at him, clutching him so he can't wander off.

When up in his room, Merlin makes quick work of Arthur's jacket and tie.

"Trying to take...hmmm... advantage _Mer_lin?" a joke in bad taste, really, but Arthur's mind is too fuzzy to notice. He doesn't notice either how suddenly Merlin spins away from him or how long he takes simply hanging the smart suit jacket up in the wardrobe and finding a place for the black tie.

All he notices is the black that threatens to swallow him – fear, sorrow and sleep. He doesn't want to sleep – he fears what might be there, waiting for him in the dark of his unconsciousness. He doesn't want to wake – sad his mother won't be there to greet him. He wants to sleep forever and block out reality, surrender to his dreams and memories.

There is a hand on his shoulder jolting him from his thoughts. "I'm going to find mum and leave now. Sleep it off, Arthur. I'll call you in the morning."

Arthur goes to open his mouth, panicked but only an unintelligible sound tumbles out and he is forced to grip Merlin's wrist in the weak fist of the drunk. No! Nonononononono!

"Don't leave me..." drunken vulnerability – an out for the weakness inside of him. He hates the taste of the words somewhere where his pride is located, but the alcohol induced panic of being alone overrides all pride and he tugs Merlin a bit. "Please..." There is a sigh, and he can just barely make out Merlin nodding his head.

"Okay, okay, lie back and go to sleep. I'll stay with you."

And Arthur does, trusting Merlin – _MerlinMerlinMerlin_ – who stays even though Arthur has been such a bad friend, will be there when he wakes.

* * *

_*Not sure if you guys have this is America, but it's a newspaper with the reading age of a 7 year old. Which I sorely dislike aha. If you do, ignore this aha. _


	11. First Kiss 4:4

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__So here you have it. BUT I'm sorry to say there is still a little bit of drama to go on after this before they really settle down BUT BEAR WITH ME, these are many different 'FIRSTS' *saucy wink*. I hope you can forgive me for this btw xD _

_Um another thing, we will probably be staying in Arthurs' POV until about chapter 14 (which, my doves, I'm an CERTAIN you will like ;])  
Enjoy. _

_PS. Really quite short – drabble-worthy actually. Sorry. I didn't want to drag this out because of the whole idea of the situation and context xD _

* * *

**First [Kiss] **

**[4/4] **

Monochrome colours swirl in his mind. The thick, viscous blackness clutches and hugs at him, not ready to release him from the warm breast of sleep. A faint throbbing of pain resounds in his head like a war drum.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

A distant ache he cannot truly appreciate.

Something stirs beside him – a warm thing, with seemingly too many wriggling limbs.

He wants the heat back.

"Christ Arthur, ger'of'me." Words. Low, buzzing words his sleep fogged mind doesn't process. Just noise – pleasant noise. Speak again, you offer peace.

Ah, the insanity of the dreaming.

The wriggling, too many limbed thing has moved, but he can still feel the heat. Stirrings in his mind and memory are valiantly thrown off. Don't want to wake yet. He knows, something – the beast lurking in the dark – knows there is something out there in the world of colour and noise and too many limbed things that he wants to avoid.

_Stay with me_ coos a voice in the darkness. He is inclined to accept.

"You are a prat, Arthur." More words, more noises. They threaten the peace of the darkness with peace of warmth. There is a faint war – a battle cry of shifting consciousness, unsure, wary.

There is pain out there.

Peace here.

There is peace out there.

Pain here.

"What were you thinking...?" breeze from somewhere, ghosting over his face. Irritating. He shifts. _Go away_.

An ugly noise makes him what to recoil and the breeze disappears.

"Why invite me Arthur, why not invite your bloody _Vivian, _after all she's the fucking light of your life isn't she?"

No, no, no. So cold. Bring back the flame and fire and heat. Bitterness, it tastes tangy on his tongue – not his to sample but there nonetheless.

"I wish I could hate you sometimes."

There is a fraction of a pause. A nothingness that is welcomed. A silence that is wary. Then there is pressure – light, soft pressure.

Lips?

_Lips. _

Sweet. Warm. Broken – something breaks within him. But these lips, they are comfort. They are peace. They are everything he needs and wants and nothing he can take.

Not yet. No, not yet.

These lips are nightmares. They are shame and embarrassment and disappointment. They are everything and nothing.

_Wantwantwantwant._

Consciousness stirs and he is roused by the foreign yet familiar sensation.

_Nononononono._

"Vivian?" He whispers a ghost of a word – memories flicker. The pressure darts away. A stream of curses bloom from pink lips only hazily seen through slit, bleary blue eyes before the motherly clutches of the darkness embraces him once more.

The warmth is gone.

When Arthur awakes, he will wonder when Merlin went home and, later, question that feverish dream that seems to be an inch on the wrong side of too real.

* * *

_So yeah. Don't hate me? Everything will work out just fiiiine :] __Excuse the weirdness (if it comes across as weird) Arthur is half asleep. _


	12. First Secret 1:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__So, here we are my lovelies. Thank you for sticking with me thus far, I really appreciate it :]_

_I will say this contains a little, A LITTLE bit of Gilli/Merlin. Just a smidge though and really, it means nothing. Well, for Merlin. I feel bad for Gilli though. Implied Arthur/others as well_

* * *

**First [Secret] **

**[1/3] **

His mother has been dead for a few months now, sleeping the beginning of forever away beneath her blanket earth. Since then, both Merlin and Arthur have turned sixteen and buckled finally under the pressure from teachers to study hard for their fast-approaching GCSE's and looking around colleges to decide their A-level courses.

He and Merlin are much the same as usual, except Arthur doesn't invite the dark haired boy to his house so much anymore. The place is empty and dull, missing the sparkle only his mother possessed. So, when Arthur isn't expected by his father or going out with his other friends and Merlin is also free, they hang out at the park, the shops or Merlin's house.

Sometimes, Arthur has even been invited out with Merlin's small group of friends. It had been a strange thing at first – Arthur would never subject Merlin to suffering his own group, that, and the small part of him that he is a little ashamed still listens to his fathers' elitist views, doesn't want him to.

Gwen had acted warmly to her old childhood friend – they still spoke in lessons, really. Gwen is one of those neutral girls who everybody likes. She giggled and talked with him, rolling her eyes at his and Merlin's antics and fuelling them a little just for the laughs.

Freya had also been kind, if a little shy. Arthur had expected that, Merlin had told him tales of his friends, and mentioned Freya's quietness to strangers. So he had smiled and spoke to her, offered her a silent chance to either ignore him or warm to him (although Arthur would be very annoyed if she chose the former, he doesn't like to be ignored) and eventually she did.

His interactions with Freya seemed to have hindered any progress he may have made with Will, but Arthur had suspected there would be none. As much as he seemed to be an okay lad, if Merlin's words despite the obvious bias were to be believed, he seemed to have a grudge against him – against all of the 'popular' (what a hideous term) kids in school. Something to do with bullies, Arthur seems to remember Merlin absently alluding to.

And Gilli... there is always something strained about his and Gilli's interactions. It isn't the obvious mutual dislike that he and Will share, but something else – something lurking beneath the surface. He hides it with smiles and jokes, but Arthur can feel the tension bled between them, linking them in something Arthur doesn't actually understand.

But he doesn't like it.

He also doesn't like how Gilli will often take Merlin's attention away from him with inside jokes and teases and things that only they can understand. It annoys him that there seems to be someone else that Merlin can be close to. There is something there, he knows, something between them, a secret that Gilli will whisper to before Merlin shoves him or hidden within a mocking comment of Merlin's that everyone else seems to get.

Well, except maybe for Will. Sometimes he looks just as clueless as Arthur feels.

And Arthur doesn't like this. Merlin has always been the one he can turn to and always been the one Merlin will run too, but Gilli puts that relationship in jeopardy with his sly comments and meaningful looks that make Merlin squawk and blush before he hits him, Gilli ducking away with a chuckle and apology. Arthur hates the claim this boy seems to have on his Dark haired friend.

Curiosity burns in his chest. What is it that they share that draws them together? He had tried plying Gwen for information, the most likely of the remaining three to tell him but she had kept tight lipped, cleverly diverting him onto other topics of conversation so well he would forget that his question had remained unanswered until he reviewed it later.

At the very least, Gwen and Freya were in the know about whatever secret bound the two friends together, and that irked him. Since when did Merlin leave Arthur out? Since when did Merlin turn to other people when his best friend (yes, he has made his mistakes in the past – he has been a shit friend, but he and Merlin have worked through that. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?) is sitting right there, always ready to listen, especially after the help Merlin had been in getting Arthur through his mothers' death.

Questions scold his tongue to black and make him fidget, even now, sitting in the cafeteria with his friends, Arthur mind is on the dark haired boy and just what he is hiding. They've been friends for years, if Merlin didn't abandon him after his shitty antics when they were kids, what makes Merlin think Arthur will abandon him?

"Are you even listening to me?" Arthur's eyes flick to the girl talking – Vivian. They had broken up before his mothers' death, a few weeks or so before the news. But that doesn't mean they aren't still – _friendly_. Granted, it mostly occurs when alcohol is applied to a situation, but he happens. And not just with Vivian – he has often found himself locked lips with some girl at a party, and while it feels nice and all in most cases, it doesn't feel quite right. Vivian had never felt quite right, there had always been something missing. Attraction had been there yes, he appreciates the soft curves of a girls' body and the pretty faces, but...

It had never been... it had been missing... well, he doesn't know what it had been missing. He just figures it has something to with love, or some other sappy nonsense his mother used to tell him about.

"_You may have all the girls in the world, Arthur – not that I am suggesting promiscuity mister, you better respect your women, else you'll answer to me – but, anyway, have all the girls in the world, but nothing will compare to when you are with the person you love. True fact."_

Once she had gotten a bit carried and started to talk about his father and her, but Arthur had hastily put a stop to that conversation. No one wants to hear about their parents' love life, let alone anything else.

"Yeah, I'm listening – Valiant's a dick." Arthur raises an eyebrow. "That's hardly news, Viv."

She flips her hair over her shoulder with a grim look thrown in Arthur's direction. "Yes, _but_..."

Arthur finds his eyes drifting over to the table where Merlin is sitting once more; the boy is currently trying unsuccessfully to get Will into a headlock whilst Gilli eggs them on with glee and the girls' lean back to avoid a wayward arm or leg. Their joint laughter carries over the din of the cafeteria and once again Arthur is struck with a need to know and a desire to shove Gilli – who is now deeming to help Will from Merlin's playful attack by wrapping his arms around Merlin's neck and yanking him backwards – away from him.

The feeling unsettles him and he clears his throat and turns his attention back to Vivian, locking the thoughts away.

* * *

It's the end of the day and Arthur is late leaving the science room. Everyone else has already bid their goodbyes and the corridors are near empty. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder, making no particular haste to meet Merlin. They always wait for each other.

"See ya later, Pendragon." Arthur glances over his shoulder, catching sight of Gwaine and Lancelot, Lancelot being the one who had spoken, leaning against the wall as Gwaine leaves the classroom a small secret smirk on his face as the teacher watches him with disapproval.

Arthur nods his head with a smile, holding up a hand in a goodbye before continuing on his way. When he reaches the front of the school, there is no sign of Merlin however. The distinct messy black hair and scruffy uniform isn't amongst the huddles of school kids hanging idly around or waiting for lifts home. He spots Freya and Will moving towards him and goes to waylay them.

"Hey, Freya?" The dark haired girl looks up as Will glowers at him. "Where's Merlin?"

The girl shrugs. "With Gilli, I think." She flicks her hair from her face. "He wanted to talk to Merlin about something. They are over by the Art block."

Arthur's eyes glance over, but of course the pair aren't seen – the Art block is an L shaped building and they are probably standing on the other side in the corner. He looks back at Freya and flashed a smile. "Thanks."

She might've uttered something else but Arthur has already turned away in the direction he was pointed in. The crowds are beginning to thin out now, and further away he gets from the gate, the less teenagers there are milling around.

He goes to turn the corner, thinking about yelling his idiots name when he stops, because Merlin is looking a little shell-shocked and Gilli nervous. Arthur steps back a bit, knowing really that eavesdropping on what is obviously a serious conversation is wrong but not quite helping himself. If either were to look up, they'd catch him red handed.

"...Expected," Merlin is saying, eyes wide and blinking. He runs a hand through his hair and glances just off of where Arthur is standing, missing him completely as he exhales. "You know how I feel." His tone is awkward and the way Merlin pulls at his blazer cuffs is testament to his discomfort.

"But you kissed him and he called you _Vivian_. I don't think he is a gay kid."

Arthur starts. _Oh shit... _but he doesn't dwell on that thought – that strange thought that his dream wasn't actually a dream ll those months ago and in fact his _best friend_...

No. Focus on the talking, that is easier to digest.

"Yeah I get that Gilli," Merlin's voice is a little sharp and then he closes his eyes and deflates. "Sorry."

Gilli, to his credit, doesn't get annoyed, only reaches out to touch Merlin's shoulder, that ring he wear glinting in what weak sun they have. It is enough to jolt Merlin out of whatever thoughts had consumed him. "I know you like him but I don't think it's going to work out – can't you just, I dunno, give it a go?"

Merlin is chewing his lip now, crossing his arms across his chest. But he doesn't brush off Gilli's touch, something that strikes a chord with Arthur. A chord the blond ignores – fear and uncertainty swirling in his chest, mingling with things he doesn't want to think about.

"That wouldn't be fair... on you especially," Merlin tries, but Gilli waves him off with his free hand.

"Not if I know exactly what I am getting into."

"But still...this-this _thing_ for Arthur isn't just going to go away," Merlin continues, looking anxious and awkward and regretful all in one painful expression. And then something happens that Arthur never thought it would see, and never wants to see again – for reasons he is sure simply because it is his best _guy_ friend getting kissed by _another_ guy and nothing else.

Gilli leans forward and catches Merlin in a kiss – a kiss Merlin doesn't push away from. Arthur is riveted to the spot, shocked and, he thinks, numbed from the multiple revelations thrown at him just now before the spell of inactivity is broken by Merlin gently pushing on Gilli's shoulders, breaking the contact. Arthur quells his instinct to run for just a little longer to catch Merlin's sorrowful apology and Gilli's slumped shoulders and grim acceptance before he runs, shooting up towards the gate without a second thought.

He stops around the corner from school, whipping his phone from his pocket, by passing an earlier text from Merlin in order to send him one saying he was already at home because of a family thing with his dad. He sends the text with little guilt and swallows, hastily working his way away from school.

Christ, he needs to think.

* * *

_So how was it? Did you like it? Parts of it I am happy with others' not too much but hey ho there we go. Oh, oh, oh. I have plans for future fics! I am so happy. One is a 7 parter and other is a 14 parter. I'm excited – and it depends on how one particular First in this fic is taken on whether the 7-parter is M or T. But never mind that for now. I hope you enjoyed this. :]_


	13. First Avoidance 2:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Blah, here's is the next one. And I might just break pattern and post two chapters. To make up for it, I will also write and post the remaining Skin Deep chapters consecutively – although I will be so bloody sad to see that one end. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and the next one :]._

_Enjoy loves. _

* * *

**First [Avoidance] **

**[2/3] **

Arthur is not avoiding Merlin. Of course he isn't – that is infantile. It isn't his fault that he just so happens needs to talk to his teacher after class or that his dad needs him home more often than not nearly straight away. It isn't his fault that he is never near his phone when it goes off or that he forgets to text back. And the fact that he doesn't even look over at Merlin any more has nothing to do with the slight nausea he feels at seeing Gilli and Merlin mess around and act as though they didn't kiss a few days ago. It's simply that Vivian, Lance, Gwaine and the rest have extremely absorbing and interesting conversations.

Of course.

Arthur doesn't avoid people. Certainly not idiots like _Merlin_, who don't know their arse from their elbow and _go around kissing random boys in front of him._

But of course, that doesn't infuriate him. The fact that someone else had kissed Merlin, that Gilli (he shudders at the thought) had kissed his best friend. No, that was not the issue. The issue is that his best friend did not deem it fit to tell Arthur that he is gay.

And he has every right to be annoyed by that. He is, after all, Merlin's supposed best friend, and best friends are meant to tell each other everything. Especially after all Arthur has been through this year – Merlin has seen his pride shot to tatters, seen him cry and whimper and weak like a child, and still didn't see fit to tell Arthur is secret.

He wants to hit himself. To repeatedly bang his head against the wall. He had been normal before all this – he had looked at Merlin and felt normal. He had laughed, joked and slung an arm around his shoulders like a _normal _friend would do.

Seeing Merlin kiss Gilli (he breathes sharply, because of the anger at being left out of an important secret, nothing else, of course) shouldn't – hasn't – changed anything. Hearing that Merlin has feelings for him, Arthur (a blush creeps up his neck and cheeks, but, of course, that is due to embarrassment that his best mate fancies him. Nothing more – so is that warm feeling in his chest. Embarrassment) doesn't change that they are best friends. They stick by each other in things like this, and well, Arthur is rather good looking.

Anyone would notice.

And, after the shock and worn off, the bubble of something pleasant (joy, happiness, pleasure?) after remembering that yes, Merlin had rejected the other boys' affections, (for affections for Arthur himself) has is simply because Merlin deserve better than sewer rat Gilli Melling* and he had most certainly _not _experienced a seemingly soul-deep relief.

Of course not.

Oh Jesus - who is he kidding? Definitely not himself. He doesn't think those statements would even convince _Merlin_, and everyone knows about his questionable intelligence.

No, that isn't fair.

Arthur sighs, sitting up in bed. Sleep has evaded him much like he has avoided Merlin – karma acting upon her duties. He rubs a hand down his face.

God, what is happening to him?

Sure, he has always felt a kind of possessiveness over Merlin, but he always thought because they are best friends. Of course, he would get jealous when other friends come along and threaten their close friendship. And yeah, he has always assumed a claim on Merlin's attention, but again he attributed that to the nature of their friendship and his own nature – no Pendragon gets ignored.

He had never consciously looked at Merlin in the way that Gilli had that day. There have been a few odd dreams that may have hinted in such a way, but they are mere tickles at his consciousness, not something Arthur actually remembers.

And yet here he is agonizing over it – seeing such a display, hearing that Merlin is apparently gay and not adverse to acting on it, has knocked him for six and now Arthur can't imagine Merlin any other way. It haunts him, terrorizes his dreams and flits past his eyes even when waking. And when he sees Gilli fawn over Merlin despite the rejection Arthur knows he witnessed, how Merlin responds kindly, and not shoving him away has more than one resulted in a ruined bottle or clenched fists.

_Gilli has no right to touch what Arthur has already claimed as his own. _

Arthur stops, blinks and exhales carefully. A part of him just wants to crawl away from all the confusion and hide under his blankets like he did when he was young and the fear of monsters in the cupboard and under the bed prevailed.

Over the past few days, he has felt the scolding burn of a familiar gaze on his back – and he knows the shocking blue will be filled with hurt and confusion, even as he smiles brightly for Gwen and plays around with _fucking Gilli..._

Again he pauses and calms.

He shouldn't be messing around with Gilli. He should be coming to Arthur and asking what is wrong, his attention should not be on them but on _Arthur_ – the way it always has been.

And god, does Arthur want to punch himself because even he knows he sounds like prat and if Merlin ever heard what he was thinking, he would punch Arthur himself.

Oh god, and Merlin had _kissed_ him.

He remembers that time – the wake after his mothers' funeral be remembers getting hammered on wine (which gave him a horrible, horrible headache the next day) and had been drifting between wakefulness and slumber when he had vaguely felt something.

He had thought it a dream, a phantom touch due to his sleep, that press of lips. He had murmured a name – Vivian – mindlessly, expecting it to be one of _those_ dreams and expecting Vivian to be the star, as she had been when they were dating and a few times after. Well, when it wasn't that funny, muddled person who never had a face, or even a clear, shaped body – in those dreams it was more a presence then anything Arthur could really see.

Now he may have an idea what his subconscious was trying to tell him with that hazy presence.

But that kiss – what he remembers of it, that fleeting touch of lips had been electric and calming altogether. He could be embellishing it – probably is actually – but thinking back to it seriously, there might have been hidden within that touch, the something that had been missing in his other kisses...

But Christ, this is _terrifying_. It is all right for Merlin – his m um is a relaxed woman who accepts everyone no matter who they are and what they've done. But _he_ is of the Pendragon line with a father who expects certain things – the right circle of friends, the right grades, the right future wife and kids, the right fucking lifestyle.

Arthur's head falls into his hands.

He can't _do_ this. It's a passing fad, a thing that will fade. He will just continue ignoring Merlin and the feelings will go away, retreat back to where they had been before Merlin and that _motherfucking kiss _had uncovered them from.

Yes. Avoidance is the best course of action. Arthur lies back against his pillows, eyes staring up into the dark, ignoring how his heart seems to drop into the pit of his toes even as he forces a smile of contentment at his plan.

Sleep avoids him once again that evening and Arthur isn't surprised.

* * *

*The surname of the character who played Gilli.  
Right, I shall now write the next one and get it posted ASAP :]


	14. First Confession 3:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__AND HERE WE HAVE IT! I wanted to post these together because I was so excited to have this one written and posted, I couldn't keep to the same pattern because I was too excited to have this one posted :]_

_And here we switch back to Merlin's point of view for most of it, but I will probably flick between the two *In case you didn't realise I write this before I write the story so, who knows, this may be wrong aha*_

_Hope this is worth the wait you've had for the past thirteen chapters aha._

* * *

**First [Confession] **

**[3/3] **

Merlin shifts in his sit, chewing his lip and tapping the end of his pencil repetitively on the desk. Dark eyebrows are furrowed into a frown as he glare down at the math questions in front of him. Beside him Will nudges his shoulder.

"Mate, quit it will you? I can't concentrate on math at the best of times."

Merlin jumps, blinks to clear his thoughts and glances over at his friend. Will stares back as if he has two heads. "Right... um, sorry."

The boy frowns beside him, glances up at the teacher – Cenred Ellis*, and evil bastard if they ever knew one – before turning back to his friend. "What's up with you recently?"

Merlin sighs and half shrugs. Will doesn't like Arthur, he knows, the pair had made their mutual dislike pretty obvious and he also doesn't know anything about his and Gilli's predicament. Merlin doubts Will will take any offence to his and Gilli's non-relationship or the fact that Merlin hasn't found any interest in women (he'd probably like it, no longer having that fear that Freya prefers Merlin to him, the bloody fool. And people say Merlin is blind), but he may be a little funny about it. At this precarious age, at any age really, who can never tell who is going to be a twat about these things.

"Arthur's..." Merlin chews the inside of his cheek. "He has been avoiding me and I don't know why." He knows what he fears – that Arthur really has gotten tired of him or listened to his father and ditched him for friends of a higher calibre and purer breed, or worse he has found out...

Merlin shakes his head. No. There is no way Arthur could have found _that_ out.

"Well good," Will huffs. "He is a prick anyway; you're too good for him."

Merlin rolls his eyes. So predictable. He has to smile a bit, because yes Arthur _is_ a prick - at times. And he has hardly shown the nicer, caring side Merlin knows he has to Will. So, Will is justified in his perception of the Pendragon junior.

"'Sides," Will says, "He has just lost his mother. That can do strange things to people. You saw him at his weakest; maybe he is embarrassed about that. Or maybe it has all just caught up with him and he needs some alone time." Will shrugs and Merlin blinks at him.

"That... was surprisingly insightful, Will," Merlin grins as his friend scowls and hits him just as Mr. Ellis turns around.

"Detention, Mr Dempsie," he growls out much to Merlin's muted mirth.

Karma's a beautiful thing.

* * *

Arthur is doing fine in Business. There is no horrible feeling in his stomach when he caught sight of Merlin that morning before form, surrounded by his friends and frowning a little as he explained something to Gwen. Gwen had looked equally troubled and confused and had lad a hand on his arm comfortingly.

He had noticed the flash of hurt in those eyes, gleaming like a diamond, but they are not bothering him. It's for the best – he can never give Merlin what he wants. Even if there is interest there, and he is not admitting anything, he couldn't because of his father. The Pendragon patriarch would destroy them both, Arthur knows how sharp his father's tongue can be and his disapproval hurts.

Arthur squares his shoulders from the slump he has fallen into, drawing the attention of Lancelot beside him. The boy quirks an eyebrow at his friend but Arthur shake his head. On the other side of Lancelot, Gwaine, who had previously been sprawled out over his desk (he had never wanted to take business but his father had insisted) smirks at him with something in his eyes that Arthur doesn't like.

Gwaine is good friends with Merlin as well, they shared a class – English Arthur thinks it is, but he could be wrong. Dropping the gaze, Arthur watches and Gwaine leans over and whispers something into Lancelot's ear before leaning back, a look of distinct dislike in his eyes as he looks back at Arthur. Lancelot on the other hand raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks wordlessly at Arthur.

He blinks a bit before he shakes himself out of his daze then something settles over his face, a looks that said something he had suspected had been clarified.

The expression makes Arthur nervous.

"Ignoring him won't make it better," Lancelot says levelly eventually. Arthur looks positively stricken.

"Don't worry Penndragon," Gwaine drawls lazily, quietly. "Only we have noticed it."

Arthur sucks on his teeth for a moment. "I don't know what you mean," he answers loftily. "There is nothing to notice."

Gwaine snorts – it's an unattractive noise. "Yeah, and denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

Arthur frowns at the boy for a moment before it catches up with him. He snarls. "I don't know what you're talking about, Macken*," he hisses venomously, more out of a weird kind of fear than anger. The boy leans forward, past Lancelot, who stopped playing mediator between the pair years ago – they don't out right dislike each other, in fact they have a lot in common, it is more Gwaine's dislike for the wealthy that breeds his need to argue with everything Arthur says – to get as close to Arthur as possible and impart the seriousness of his next comment.

"Merlin is a good lad, better than you _Pendragon_, and if you hurt him..." He lets the threat trail off and leans back. Arthur rolls his eyes and doesn't dignify the threat with an answer, just ignores him. But there is a curling something in his stomach – Merlin is a good person. He doesn't deserve hurt he is obviously feeling, but Arthur can't...

He just can't.

He leaves business that day trying to shrug off the thoughts that threaten to ruin his resolution.

* * *

Merlin is trying his hardest to not let his darkening mood affect his friends at lunch. He still smiles and jokes, shoving Will out of his seat and begging for protection from Freya when he gets up to get his own back. She giggles as he cowers behind her and Will snarls something about cowardice and shields and grumbles that he will get him later.

He and Gilli act mostly the same, but there is a slight hesitance there between them and no one but themselves can notice. He knows how much courage it must've taken Gilli to speak to him the other day, and while the kiss had been nice and some part of his brain had been close to giving in and allowing himself to have a bit of attention, he just couldn't do it.

And it wasn't because it felt like a betrayal to Arthur, because it didn't. Arthur has dated and has no clue to Merlin's attraction to him. Probably never would because he is obviously straight. No he had refused for exactly the reason he gave Gilli – it wouldn't be fair on him to constantly be second best, to know that Merlin still, stupidly, pined after his best friend. It said he would be okay with it, but Merlin knows it would get to him sooner or later and that would result in a break up that could ruin their friendship.

Merlin never wanted to cause him any pain, but this small step back in their friendship is much better than a massive blow up and never talking again later. Perhaps he is wrong, and perhaps he would learn to love Gilli as much if not more then he currently eels for Arthur, but he doesn't know.

He never wants to hurt Gilli, any of his friends, that way.

And besides they are young, Gilli said he loves him, and just like Merlin claim that he loves Arthur, it is possibly a naive belief that quite a few young people have. After all, hadn't Arthur claimed to love Vivian? They hadn't even lasted a few months.

So there is hesitancy there, a wariness of how to act around each other now but it is fading as they spend time together and the memory of the confession bleeds into the back of their minds.

Merlin chews on his sandwich, turning in his set to look at Arthur who is talking to Lancelot with an annoyed expression. Merlin turns back, a heavy sigh on his lips, but he doesn't give it voice. Instead he smiles to his friends, laughs at Will's lame joke, and decides that he is going to find out exactly what is wrong with Arthur when school's over.

* * *

Unfortunately the fates are working against Merlin today it seems, and Arthur is nowhere to be found. He chews his lip and shakes his head in irritation. Can't they make something easy for him? Seriously? He turns back to Gwen and hugs her.

"I'll call you later," he promises and she nods.

"You better," she says, hugging her old friend close. "And tell Arthur from me he is an idiot." Her smile is small as she speaks, but warm as if she has every confidence that the pair will work everything out. Merlin can't help but return it.

"Of course." He waves at the at the others and turns up toward the gate, fishing out his phone. "Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

Merlin glances up and down the road before crossing. "I'm going to Arthur's after school, is that okay? I need to talk to him about something but I don't know how long it will take."

There is background noise of an indicator in the car. £Yes that's fine. If it's too late, call me and I'll come and pick you. Will you be having dinner there, or would you like me to save something for you? It's lasagne."

"Um," Merlin dodges a bike and ignores the jeer from the boy riding it. "Yeah, I don't know. Save some, even if I do eat I can have it tomorrow."

Hunith hums at the other end of the phone. "Okay, love. I'll see you later." Merlin returns his goodbyes before opening up a text message and sends: _we need 2 tlk._

* * *

Arthur's phone beeps as he is finishing off his homework. He slides it open and, seeing Merlin's name there, exits from it. He doesn't want to see whatever he has written. He throws his phone to the side with unnecessary force and turns back to his homework.

He loses himself in it, ears plugged with headphones from his iPod as he monotonously answers the questions in front of him. He is only drawn out of it when his door sneaks open and his father is standing there. There is an expression of faint annoyance on his face.

Arthur drops his pen and removes the headphones. "Father?"

"One of your friends is downstairs in the living room – keep it down, I'm working in the study and need peace." Arthur nods and frowns, wondering who it is. His thoughts shift to Merlin, because of the text, but Merlin has been in this house so many times, surely he would've just come upstairs?

He jumps off the last step and walks into the living room and, lo and behold, Merlin is standing there, back to him, gazing at the family portrait hanging over the fire place.

"Merlin? What are you doing here?" Arthur bites the words out. No, Merlin cannot be here. He _can't._ That's just not fair, not after all of Arthurs' hard work keeping him at a distance for the past week.

"We need to talk," the dark haired boy says simply as he turns. And Arthur finds himself wishing he had read the text Merlin had sent him.

* * *

Arthur looks uncomfortable, and that in turn stirs feelings of doubt in Merlin's stomach. They have never been uncomfortable with each other, never. In fact Arthur is one of only two places where Merlin feels he is most comfortable, most at home. This, this degradation of their relationship hurts more than the avoidance did.

"You've been avoiding me for some reason," Merlin starts, eyes staring steadily into Arthur. He is trying to read the emotions in Arthur's gaze, but they are too jumbled, too many to even begin to discern.

This has never happened before either. Merlin has always managed to work Arthur out, always. But now. Why now? What changed?

Arthur looks about ready to be sick and Merlin steps forward on instinct then stops, unsure how it would be taken. His stomach inches further down and he wonders if his previous convictions that Arthur _doesn't know _were wrong.

Never has Merlin prayed harder for something then he does right then.

* * *

There is a heavy silence, and Arthur shakes his head and straightens his back. Okay, he can do this. He can lay to rest any and all feelings of a romantic kind now. He can say he knows and they can only be friends and his avoidance was because he didn't want to hurt Merlin.

Yes. Best plan – after seeing Gilli and Merlin, he is sure Merlin will hold not ill-will towards him. He may be hurt, as rejection is sure to sting anyone, but he will get over it.

"Not here, Merlin. My dads' in the study." Arthur turns, fully expecting Merlin to follow, which he does. With his back turned, Arthur can let his expression of normalcy fall and blink, trying to think of the best way to put his rejection – Merlin, after all isn't some needy girl who needs the harshest of put downs in order to get the point. He is a friend, Arthur best friend, and therefore deserves kindness.

He pushes his way into the bedroom. He doesn't turn to face Merlin, simply walks over to his window. He doesn't want to look at Merlin, looking away had been a relief, because the butterflies in his stomach that he is now fairly certain aren't just regret and anticipation of hurting a friend, died down a notch. And those bloody blue eyes no longer have an effect on him, no longer make him want to hug Merlin and clear away the confusion.

"I... I saw..." he pauses, his mouth dry. This is harder than he expected. The underlying rage and, yes, he recognises that weird emotion now, jealousy, burns under the surface at the memory of Gilli kissing Merlin. "I saw the kiss." He can't bring himself to vocalise Gilli's part in this.

There is an exhale from behind and he sound of Merlin collapsing on his bed. Arthur looks over his shoulder just once to see Merlin perched on the end, his eyes closed. Thankfully.

"Christ..." He is sure Merlin doesn't even realise the word has fallen from his lips. Then those eyes open and Arthur has to look away, because even without those eyes focused on him they affect him. "Was that all you...saw?" His voice is deceptively calm and Arthur is momentarily envious – usually Arthur is the composed one and Merlin the one ruled by his emotions.

"Not quite..." Merlin flinches and his head drops in resignation. He breathes steadily. He knows, Arthur thinks, he knows I know now.

"So...you heard what was said? You know..." Merlin blinks and then forces himself to look at Arthur, and bloody hell, Arthur wishes he didn't.

Seriously, eyes like that should be _banned_.

Arthur nods. "I... yes." He turns away from the window; really, Merlin deserves his entire attention when he does this. "And I... Merlin..." why can't he force the words out of his mouth.

"You know that I..._likeyou_." Merlin apparently needs confirmation, and rushes the last sentence, as if that would make it easier. A blush bleeds over his face and ears. Christ... he just _confessed_. Arthur closes his eyes for a moment.

When did it get so hot in this room?

Arthur swallows. "Yes." Merlin nods slowly. Arthur opens his mouth again, moving forward. Something compels him to move, something other than his mind and feet that is. Merlin looks so lost there, chewing on his lip as if it needs to be punished for uttering such words and childlike. He looks afraid and that wrenches at Arthur's heart.

He sits beside Merlin, wanting to wrap an arm around him and comfort him as he would in a different situation, as Merlin already has done for him when his mother died.

"Look Merlin, I..." he stops again, mostly because Merlin has dared to look at him through his fringe, and really is he _trying_ to kill him? Arthur is trying to do the right thing, something that will avoid hurt in the future – for both of them. "I can't..."

This really is useless, especially when Merlin looks like a kicked fucking puppy.

"Jesus..." Arthur whispers and then self-control is out of the window, his previous conviction bid a happy good bye and restraint takes a holiday.

Merlin makes a shocked noise against his mouth, which Arthur doesn't blame him for. Arthur himself is shocked. Arthur pulls away after the softest, briefest of touches. Even that blazed through his skin, as if his lips were the centre of his nerves.

"Well, doing the whole 'good thing' is ruined," he muses as Merlin stares at him with confusion. Arthur doesn't care; he is more talking to himself. He isn't entirely comfortable with this he thinks – when he thinks beyond kissing with Merlin, something within him freezes. But kissing him is good; kissing him is very good, actually.

Better than Vivian.

So he does it again and this time Merlin is a little more aware of what is going on, answering the brush of lips with one of his own – hesitant as if expected Arthur to come to his senses any minute now.

He doesn't. He says very much out of his senses as he kisses Merlin, growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, and he loves every minute of it. Heat blisters in his blood, warmth spilling over his chest as his heart beats out a rapid tune against his ribcage.

Damn...

And privately, he is quite happy to admit he had been an idiot to think he could have rejected Merlin and avoided this for the rest of his life. But then a faint, electric touch of touch from Merlin (Merlin! He is meant to be meek and shy and _not as good at kissing as he is, damnit_) stops him thinking altogether.

Never has mindless indulgence been so bloody _good_.

* * *

_And there we have it. I hope you liked that. I really do. I am so relieved to have them together, at last, but I am sure you can all see the next hurdle coming ahaha. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all. :]_

_Dunno if it counts as a confession though... oh well aha. _

_*As usual, the surname of the actor. :]  
_

_Until next time :]_


	15. First Wedding 1:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__So we're back to this. Hm, you know what I have rediscovered, how much I hate writing endings. I am so much better at beginnings ahah. Anyway, here is the next instalment and then I'll be writing and posting a new for the slight delay, I lost my mojo for a while there. But it's back :D  
_

_I'm nervous of what is to come, but I hope I don't fail you all aha. _

_Enjoy._

_PS. I am not a fan of Twilight; sorry if the brief comment does offend anyone. I do like the covers, simple but effective. I just dislike the content._

* * *

**First [Wedding] **

**[1/3] **

He can almost feel the bitter betrayal that blazes through Arthurs' veins like a poison. He can understand it too, his own indignation and horror pumping through his veins with each hateful heartbeat. He wishes he could reach out and touch Arthur, comfort him in this charade. He had before the ceremony. He had dragged his understated and fairly cheap suit over to Arthur's home, scooted past the maid and bridal party and slipped into his room with a practised ease.

He had caught a glimpse of a dark haired female around his age, assumed her identity as the spawn of Uther Pendragons' infidelity and, in a kinship to his best friend, felt a surge of misplaced dislike and hostility. He couldn't help it; Ygraine had been a beautiful, wonderful woman who he had loved like his own mother. He couldn't help but hate all these proceedings and claim it a farce. He couldn't help but loathe Uthers' parading of his own weakness and the evidence of his betrayal.

Arthur had been sitting on the edge of his bed when Merlin came in, shirt half buttoned and silver tie loose around his neck like a snakeskin. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers clasped together so tight the knuckles were white.

Only a year has passed since Ygraine died, and here they both were, donning suits to welcome a new wife into Uthers' bed and a new sibling into Arthur's life. The hard set of Arthur's mouth and the tense hold of his shoulders were more than understandable.

He didn't raise his eyes to acknowledge Merlin, but Merlin had never needed such a thing. Instead he eased across the room and sat beside Arthur, pushing his own suit onto the bed behind them.

For weeks they had known about this, and for weeks Arthur has stewed in dark thoughts – Merlin couldn't pry them from him, gave up trying after a while and so set to distract him instead. He couldn't so easily distract Arthur now that the day was upon them and Arthur had to obey the rules of 'best man.'

A nasty cruelty Merlin will never forgive Uther for.

He ran the tips of his fingers down Arthur's spine soothingly; not bothering to speak because nothing he could have said would satiate the anger or soothe the betrayal. So he gave Arthur this wordless comfort, a voiceless understanding and promise to be there, whenever he needed him.

Slowly the tension in Arthur's shoulders receded like a wave on the beach.

"It's been barely a year and he marries his _whore_." The bitter was like a wound to Merlin, never had Arthur sounded so ugly. Broken, yes, Merlin had witnessed him break, but that bitterness was something new and Merlin was floundering slightly to combat it.

He opted to stay silent, to allow Arthur was raging and fury. But Arthur didn't rage or curse, he only whispered in that bitter, black tone.

Merlin continued his caresses, leaning his head forward so it rested lightly against Arthurs' before kissing his temple – a soft gesture of support. Nothing heavy, Arthur was too wound up and at the best of times it was difficult to get over his reservations at going any further then kissing and a bit of light petting over clothes let alone anything else.

"I mean, she must be a whore right? To fuck a married man?" Arthur snorted – a hideous sound. "And him a fucking, spineless, weak, _pathetic_ bastard. So much for Pendragon poise and honour. So much for the Pendragon _fucking_ _bullshit_!"

Merlin jumped a little at the harsh bark of a yell on the last words. Arthur was panting a little as if the expulsion of energy tired him. Then the blond sighed, leaning into Merlin, the side of his forehead touching the front of Merlin's, his eyes closed.

Merlin could read every mood of Arthurs', every nuance of his behaviour and voice. The silent '_I_ _don't want to do this_,' thrummed through the very vibration of his soul. Arthur indulged in the touch a little longer before he straightened. He took a calming breathe and smiled at Merlin – a false thing that made him wince. He didn't want to do it, but he would. Not for his father, Merlin knew, but for the memory of his mother who taught him better than that.

"Don't," Merlin remembers saying quietly, dropping his hand from his friends' back. "It's me remember. I can read you like a book. A boring book, with very little going on." It was a weak attempt at levity. Arthur had looked at him then, nodding and ducking his head to hide the smaller, but softer smile.

"I don't need a complicated plot, I have a pretty cover. It worked for the Twilight series." A weak reply, but a reply nonetheless. Merlin returned the smile and they stand. "Get into your suit Merlin – best get this pantomime over and done with."

And now here they are. Arthur standing stiffly by his fathers' side as he repeats his vow for his new wife. Her daughter – a lovely thing, if not for the scandal she represents – looks equally as disgusted at the proceedings, and Merlin wonders if infidelity had occurred on both sides. He wonders if she is hurting as well, maybe not as much as Arthur but still aching.

And Merlin sits on the wings, surrounded by Arthur's family, wishing he could stand beside Arthur and lend him strength. He has seen how Arthur's hands have fisted before relaxing near compulsively, and his jaw has clenched rhythmically. His smile is an open wound whenever his father deemed to look at him and an indifference line the moment he was no longer studied.

He wishes to take Arthur into his arms, even for a moment to release him from his self-imposed shackles of being strong and adult. But he cannot, not yet. His time to comfort Arthur will come, probably after Arthur has hit he bottle and is vulnerable and more open, clinging to Merlin like a lifeline. Merlin admits he doesn't mind it when Arthur does that, but he also hates the motivation behind the drinking that got him into such a state in the first place. Arthur does not drink often, but when he does, he often lets his good sense go as well – teenage rebellion when his father gets too much.

Arthur turns slightly from where he stands, catching Merlin's eyes immediately. He does not smile, but there is a quiet warmth there, smouldering behind the bitter hate. Yes, Arthur is hurting, but he also knows Merlin is there to help him piece himself back together, just as he has in the past and as Arthur has done for Merlin.

Merlin smiles a little, as Arthur turns away. They both have come to an understanding, a realization that shouldn't have been so surprising as it was – that they can weather any storm thrown at them as long as they had each other.

* * *

_Oh the fluffy ending. I couldn't resist it. xD_


	16. First Dance 2:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__And here is the next chapter. Not much to say on this one, just a cute little piece I wrote for them whilst at the wedding. What I do have to say is about the next chapter – which I will tell you all now is their first 'time' (what a twee way of putting it 0_0) – and this may take a bit longer for me to post for many reasons – mainly that I haven't written an explicit sex scene before (well, I have written oral but that was in the Loveless fandom and a lot easier because they are just characters, whereas Merlin and Arthur are also Colin and Bradley), which I intend to do (also a warning for those of you who might not like reading such things, I know a few people who don't). So yeah, it may take longer for me to get it out because I will be fretting near constantly about this, wanting to get it right – the right balance between the nerves of the boys, the uncertainty and newness as well as the fear and Arthur's own hang-ups about being with someone of the same gender. So, I apologise in advance now if the wait for that is long. _

_On the other hand it could be written in an instant and posted with my eyes closed. Who knows? Aha.  
_

_Now, here is the next chapter. _

_*Ahem* Sorry about that massive chunk of writing aha. _

_Oh, and I decided to make Helena the wife because she and Morgana do look alike, marrying a singer seems like an Uther-y thing to do and I can't be bothered to find out who actually was Morgana's mother. Yeah, I'm lazy. _

_Enjoy._

* * *

**First [Dance] **

**[2/3] **

The cheesy music of the DJ is almost too much to bear. Merlin leans against the bar as Arthur makes his rounds, watching as his blond gets hugged and cooed over by elderly, distant relatives and converses with the closer ones. Morgana, the daughter of Uthers' new wife Helena, does the same around her own relatives.

She is a beauty, Merlin notes abstractedly. Their age with skin as white as porcelain, dark curls in an elegant cascade down her back, a slim but pleasant figure and a bright smile. She looks like her mother, and yet he can also see the Pendragon blood in her – look to her eyes and there is a familiarity there that makes Merlin want to look away. She moves with the grace expected of a supernatural being, like a fey, yet another innate Pendragon trait.

He has not spoken to the girl, not since that stiff, awkward first introduction a few months ago where his manners and general friendliness clashed with his loyalty to Arthur and his feelings and his genuine heartache for the late Ygraine. Arthur had taken to coming around his house afterwards, not giving Merlin any more of a chance to know the girl. It had been easier anyway, with Merlin's mother pulling double shifts whenever she could to save up a bit of money to add to the minimal amount he has saved for university.

"I just want to get out of here." Merlin jolts at the sound of a voice, cursing when his coke (the bar tenders refused to serve him without ID) sloshing down him, luckily landing on his trousers and avoiding the white shirt. Merlin glares at Arthur, who is only grinning at him. Now away from his father, and able to pretend that this isn't a wedding, only a party as long as he doesn't look at his father, his mood has improved a little.

"Idiot," he says fondly, leaning his elbows on the bar. His smart jacket has disappeared somewhere, but the silver waist coat remains in place, even if his silk silver cravat is loosened around his neck. His eyes are closed for a moment, ignoring the music and dancing relatives.

"It's your fault," Merlin argues, setting his now nearly empty glass on the side and patting at his trousers helplessly. "You bloody ignoramus." His glare is weak and Arthur chuckles, eyes slit open like a contented cat and Merlin is left to wonder if he has secreted away a bottle of wine or two and downed them in some quiet place.

It wouldn't surprise him.

"That's a very big word Merlin, where'd you learn that?"

"Don't make me hurt you, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur grins then. "As if you could, _Mer_lin." Merlin pauses, eyes a little wide. Arthur had leant in to say those words, his breath ghosting over his neck, warm and gentle and the way he drawled Merlin's name in such an intimate way – Merlin closes his eyes and breathes steadily. Arthur is the king of sensual when he wants to be, and the occasion is usually rare without the addition of wandering hands (his teasing flirting, however is rife, always has been when not near the Pendragon Manor). Merlin swallows the heat that flares in interest, regains his composure and glances at Arthur without moving his head. Arthur is smiling idly, knowingly, with a twinkle in his eyes that Merlin has learnt to be wary of.

It does mean that perhaps a few mouthfuls of wine has passed his lips (Merlin has to fight not to drop his eyes to them, that would be too much and Arthur will only gloat), but only enough to give him a buzz, Merlin decides. A little liquid courage, he thinks before giving the blond his full attention.

"What?" His voice doesn't quite hide the tremor of lingering heat but Arthur is good enough not to mention it and focuses instead on the dance floor. Merlin follows his gaze, not quite understanding, even though a dawning casts a shadow over him.

"Dance with me." It's a demand, not a request.

Merlin chokes. "What?" He is glad his glass is on the side, he would've dropped it otherwise. Surely, Arthur is not suggesting they go out and dance, together, in front of his entire family and his father? No, because that would be insanity and Arthur has already pointed out that Merlin has enough of that for the both of them.

Or is that idiocy? Merlin doesn't care because Arthur is displaying both if he is being serious.

"I don't dance," he says, voice still retaining wonder. And Arthur just grins and shrugs.

"The DJ," his nose wrinkles as if not thinking the man is deserving of such a title. Merlin had to agree, he was surprised the man had even been hired really. "Is going to put on a... slower song. I heard my cousin request one – he is going to propose to his girlfriend, and she'll say yes."

Merlin just blinks at him and Arthur shakes his head. "You're lucky I like you Merlin," he says with exasperation, "I don't think anyone else could deal with the obvious mental deficiency. I must have the patience of a saint."

Then Arthur grabs his hand and Merlin tenses, shaking his head.

"I won't be used as revenge to your father," he whispers, genuinely thrown off balance. Arthur frowns, tugging on Merlin's hand and successfully pulling him a few steps away from the bar. A couple fly in from the courtyard and Arthur smiles the soft smile Merlin misses sometimes.

A song Merlin doesn't know starts up, even as the excited clamour of the new bride-to-be hasn't died.

"I'm not going to lie that seeing Fathers' face will not be a treat and yes, perhaps a small part of me wants to provoke him somehow," his eyes harden before the blue becomes gentle once more and he shakes his head. "But that is not all of it." His fingers slide between Merlin's and he pulls again.

"You have to have been drinking. You do not do this kind of thing."

"Yes I do... I just had to find the appropriate moment."

"And this is it?" Merlin gestures around the crowded ballroom with his free hand, voice bordering on shrill. "Are you actually mental?"

Arthur smiles and looks down at their joined hands. "You haven't let go yet," he observes. "And as if you could say no to me, _Mer_lin." The dark haired man fights a shiver and sighs. Arthur is right, painfully, horribly right. Merlin can't say no to Arthur – and despite knowing that Arthur will probably regret doing this, coming out in such a way – he relents and allows Arthur to pull him along to where plenty of couples are now dancing.

And his chest constricts a little as Arthur places his hands freely on his hips. Merlin's face burns and he has to inhales and exhale deeply through the embarrassment before he can put his arms around Arthur's neck. He closes his eyes against the world as if that will make them disappear.

"You're going to regret this," Merlin murmurs into Arthur neck, unable to look around as Arthur swayed him. There are one or two whispers, but Merlin isn't sure if they are about them or not. The dance floor is pretty packed; they may just go unnoticed by most.

"I wouldn't have kept you secret forever, Merlin," he whispers back earnestly as Merlin leans back to look at him, stilling their motions. Arthur shrugs, looking away. "It would've been selfish of me to do so, and would have hurt you in the long run." Arthur has his own flush to his cheeks now and his eyes avoid those of Merlin's. "I would've done it sooner or later, and –" he pauses, glances at Merlin, away then fights to keep his gaze on Merlin's once more. "I want people to know; it will stop people like Gilli and Gwaine from hitting on you at the very least."

Merlin laughs, one hand sliding from its place to cover his mouth. "Gwaine flirts with everyone and Gilli's crush faded ages ago."

Arthur coughs, looking pleased, but still embarrassed at the confession. "Still, you are mine and that needs to be made known." Merlin shakes his head, returning to his previous position and allowing Arthur to move them once more – liquid courage might not have been the best phrase, maybe perhaps liquid insanity would have been better. But Merlin isn't going to complain, even if his own embarrassment hasn't quite faded after catching a few glimpses of staring Pendragons' and, unexpectedly, what appears to be approval from Morgana.

"Uther is going to kill us when he sees us." Arthur laughs and Merlin can hear the rumble of his mirth through his chest.

"Yes, I believe he will, but imagine his expression."

* * *

_More fluff. I hope that doesn't seem to sudden for Arthur, although it has been a year since they 'got together.' Ah, the wonders of liquid courage xD_


	17. First Time 3:3

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Oh sweet jesus. I have been avoiding writing this, but I thought no, it needs to be done. Blah, I have never been so nervous to post something. _

_*Exhales slowly*_

_On another note, all other stories, except this one are going to be taking a back seat. Not only do I need to review the plots and chapters and what not, but I am planning a pretty epic novel length adventure/fantasy/romance trilogy (or maybe a series of four books. What are those called?). The first book, which will be called 'The Footman' is in the process of being planned (the chapter and general sequence of events have already done so, I am not on the chapters) and all my energies will mostly be on that. _

_Those stories will be updated, just slowly. Only First Times will be updated regularly (or as regular as I am aha) because it is my baby xD_

_Anyway I hope you enjoy this. There is a switch in style from the first half to the second. Unlike what I have done previously in another fandom, I can't write bluntly with these boys when it comes to sex - probably because they are actual actors unlike in anime or books where they are purely fictional. So sorry for hte complete switch in styles.  
_

* * *

**First [Time] **

**[3/3] **

Silhouettes, they stagger and stumble into a silent home. Along the walls, their shadows twist and join – two become one, melting and mixing together like the paints of artists. They move in sync as if their dance had been destined ages ago, the music of their own making swirls around them; it fuels rhythm, bleeds lust. They listen and they dance a heated, furious tango of delirious desire. This is not their first entwinement – the moves are known and perfect. One steps, another falls; one sweeps, another glides. They twist and spin around each other as they always have done. Entire worlds could've have burned to ashes and they would not care. Eons could've rendered their world to dust still they would've danced.

An old frustration and betrayal bleeds into something sweeter, an antidote to the poison. Lips devour and press and soothe, teeth bite and scrape and caress as hands knead and stroke and pinch. Silent is the home they have slipped into, dark as sin and shadowed. They care not.

Feet and unsteady legs tremble and stagger up winding stairs, hands touching and gripping. Pauses. Hesitations. Lips are hungry and hands are curious. It takes second and centuries for the bodies to slam into the right room. Fire blazes between them, heat simmering through veins and smouldering groins – embers will never die.

Whispered curses, the tearing of fabric. The dark haired Merlin hisses as fingers sear across the skin of his chest, blunt nails scraping against skin and scratching nipples. Teeth tease and torment his neck, dull pain in his head as he falls back against the wall. His own hands, soaked in moonlight skin, pull and tug at offending fabric.

_More more more!_

Need so great it aches in his chest. Breath is forced from lungs in quick succession. His heart is thundering in his chest. His hand curls in gold strands and lips attack, devour, feast. _Yes._ They feast on each other, consume each other in their need to be closer, closer, _closer_ – ever closer.

Moving once more, tumbling and laughing, grasping and giggling even as they fall to the softness of the bed. Arthur lies below him, his knees either side of the trim body he has explored so many times. The annoying shirt is open, hanging off his shoulders. He leans forward and the skin presented to him is his. He teases, and kisses and caresses. His tongue follows each dip and curve of ribs and stomach, it worships and devotes and above, Arthur groans in impatience.

_Patience is a virtue. _Words mean nothing. Breath ghosts over trails of tongue and shivers electrify his spine. Merlin smiles into the awaiting skin, a canvas for him to paint with blush – which he does with enthusiasm. He bites and punishes, tormenting and teasing, giving all and nothing. Arthur bucks, back arching most pleasingly.

Lips close around pebbled flesh, sucking lightly until the wanted reaction is given – a hiss, a plea, a moan. "_Mer_lin!"

A smile. A last, lingering kiss on the presented chest and Merlin sits back. Arthur is unwrapped in front of him like a prize and he rather enjoys it. He shifts a little and a spike of almost painful pleasure rockets through the both of them. Arthur rears up like a frightened horse, hand closing around the back of Merlin's neck and kissing him fiercely. The silhouettes meld together once more in passion.

Honeyed fingers press and explore on their own, and it is the tormentors' time to be punished for his games. His neck is ravished by ravenous lips; the gathering perspiration tasted and enjoyed as one questing hand wrenches his head back and the other journeys lazily down his torso.

Fire follows in his path, and his groin tightens further still as the fingers stroke his waist, teasing the skin just above his slacks. Retaliation, Merlin initiates his own quest, tugging and parting Arthur's own trousers and slipping a cool hand inside.

"_Fuck."_

Fingers grip at his hips as he idly moves his hand, wrist movement limited by his own body and the fabric, but Merlin doesn't mind that. It is all the more infuriating. A restrained groan from beneath him and shaking hands are battling with his own trousers – his back curves to kiss the gold beneath him, teeth closing around the plump bottom lip and pausing there.

Blue gazes into blue. They ask. They question. They inquire.

_Wants. Desire. Need. _

His eyes close when a hand closes around him; a biting mewl whispers from his lips. _Yes._

But it isn't enough – the fiery pleasure plundering his body is not enough. Heavy, wanton breath – a whores' cries and moans that neither can be ashamed of.

_Not enough. _

They are both flipped – Merlin falls back into softness and comfort, his knees V-ed with Arthur settled between them. Chests brush chests, pleasure meets pleasure. Moist breath on his neck and Arthur grinds down. Heads fall back, mouth parted in an open moan. Hips meet in a rough, heady grinding – open-mouth kisses are not pretty, but they are messy and delicious and bruising. Tongue battle for dominance, even as harden flesh grates and slides against hardened flesh. Groans and moans, mewls and sighs are swallowed, feasted upon by the soul and passion. Heat pools and screams.

"Not enough..." He agrees with the sentiment but pauses, hands stilling hips from above. Once again eyes meet, swirling with black want and need, tinged with desperation. Merlin pushes up with his hips, an offering, a request, a question. Arthur swallows – uncertainty thrums through his veins even as zeal zings past his nerves.

He nods.

Nerves.

This is new territory. An accepting nod and then kisses, soothing, soft kisses. Encouraging. Loving. A quiet roll of bony hips and breath catches.

Nerves. Both are crackling with nerves.

But they move still at a new tempo. Fingers trail and stroke with a quiet reverence, lips caress and brush with awe, feet slide and slip over clothed calves with wonder. Eyes close with trust.

They continue to strip each other slowly now, carefully brushing shirts from shoulders – cheap cotton and soft silk trailing over skin and goose bumps erupting. Trousers and underwear and slid of legs. They flip once more and Merlin noses the newly presented thigh.

He questions silently as he shifts over Arthur, sitting astride him – he knows this is how it must be. Arthur already trembles. He would not consent to be breached, not yet – Merlin doesn't mind. This way, however, he has more control – it lessens a few of his own fears.

Hands brush his thighs before disappearing once more. They return and they tease – soon they are inside, rubbing, promising, stretching. He moves with them, biting his lip as he does so. The discomfort bled into pain, only now is he starting to feel the tendrils of pleasure coax the movements of his hips.

Eyes watch him keenly, and their own lips are being bitten. A hand soothes his sides as the dark haired Merlin rides the intrusion. The pain took a while to fade, but he trusts Arthur. Nerves still jangle their own tune – the intrusion had slipped and prodded, their inexperience is obvious but they worked through it.

Whispered apologies, shaking fingers, awkwardness. The emptiness is necessary, but he finds himself almost missing the intrusion – his hands fist on the chest below him to hide his own anxiety. More apologies as protection is fumbled from the drawer and eased over flesh, hard gasps and anticipatory breathlessness.

False starts and slight misjudgements makes his cheeks bloom, but then he is sinking down. A wince of pain and a heavy swallow from below. Minutes, eons pass until Arthur is sheathed into a tight heat – Merlin seated with a grunt. Adjustment – Arthur knuckles are white, they grip hips in effort.

Then movement. The bliss. Hisses, groans, grunts and moans. Hips roll and meet. Hard flesh pierces him, coarse and strange. Pleasure bubbles in his stomach, spreading through his chest as he rides the storm at his own pace. Dull pleasure, muted and delicious curls up his spine, wantonly clutching at him and enveloping him.

A shift of position. An explosion. White-hot spikes of molten pleasure race up and down his spine, fire ants of excitement and desire. Below, hips drive up into heat, limbs quaking with the effort – noiseless he is except for his heavy breath and manly grunts of exertion. Sweat pools and drips, sliding down spines and necks like tears.

Pacing quickens every time that one point is struck. His back is arced, eyes closed and head thrown back like an obscene carving – his legs burn as his heart races. Hips are relentless. Pleasure uncoils like a snake in his groin as a hand wraps around it, wrist jerking as his body does the same.

Not much longer. Too young. Too desirous. Too inexperienced.

Hot. Hot. Hot. Blazing fire. Electric touches. Pleasure spikes dangerously and his mouth falls open in an silent moan as beneath him the body tenses like a taut violin string before shuddering, hips flexing as he rides out his orgasm like Merlin rides him.

Merlin still moves, not yet reaching his completion but grasping at it desperately. Softening flesh within him feels strange, but the hand continues its worship and there is just an explosion of whiteness behind his eyes, sparks of pleasure jolting through his system like an electric shock – there is only oblivion and nothing more than that. There is perfection and nothingness and blinding pleasure that rocks his soul.

Even when the immediate pleasure fades, there is a content glow curled up in his chest. He collapses to the side easily, as Arthur works to free himself from the protection. Merlin grabs a fallen shirt and, when his partner lies back down, cleans him of his release. Sleep comes to them on swift wings in the moments of silence that follows, and the two rests after the last moves of the dance.

* * *

Merlin isn't the first to awake. He shifts from his space near the edge of the bed, and turns on his side. Arthur is looking at his ceiling with an expression Merlin isn't sure he wants to read on his face. Merlin grimaces as he shifts again, his lower back and arse are aching – the pain isn't pleasant but the memory of how he got it is, to him at least.

Arthur then looks down at him and smiles.

"Well, that was better than Vivian."

Merlin smacks him and glares. "You're such a bloody moron." Then he frowns. "You had sex with Vivian? You didn't tell me."

Arthur shrugs. "It was at a party." His smiles again. "How's your arse this morning?"

"Just validates everything I have been saying all these years."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "And what's that."

"You're a pain in my backside."

Arthur snorts. "That was an appalling joke, _Mer_lin." Arthur stretches languidly, before focusing back on Merlin. "Sorry if I hurt you. I know you haven't done _that_ before." There is genuine regret in his voice.

Merlin shakes his head. "Don't be." He smiles a little grimly. "Uther is going to kill us."

Arthur wrinkles his nose at the reminder. Uther's anger had been cold, like an oozing swamp, his eyes black as sin and expression set in an ugly scowl for just a moment before melting into indifference.

And Merlin had been so close. If only Arthur had let him wriggle away as soon as he song ending as he wanted then Uther would never have spotted them and the dancing and rumours that would bubble through the guests could be laid to rest as just that.

But no, Arthur had to grip his hips tightly and press Merlin's body to his own, whispering wonderfully obscene things in his ear. Words, darkly sensuous promises that he had been surprised to hear, in a tone Merlin only heard in the quiet of a bedroom stroked his ear and neck – Arthur breath had been warm and teasing, his lips tantalising as they lightly skimmed skin and his smile evident. Of course, Arthur, King of Prats and demanding attention would choose to tell him such things in such a place – even the steady approach of his father (that Merlin hadn't been aware of as he had his back to the man and only discovered when Arthur then told him they were going to run, after an intense description of just what Arthur would like to do to him) didn't stop him whispering sins in his ear.

Merlin had only a second to look around and catch Uther glare – the fury and disgust (the latter more aimed at him, Merlin thinks, then his son) in those eyes and stilled him, froze him in place and Arthur had had to partially drag him through the relatives and out the doors. They had launched themselves down the stairs, even though they both new Uther would make no attempt to follow them. He would not disturb the celebrations even with the discovery that his son was at least bisexual, for that would be unseemly – and homophobia is greatly looked down upon these days as gay rights continue to grow and build bridges between the old hate and fear and new understanding. The Pendragon senior could not bring scandal upon his business by being openly hostile to the idea, now or later.

It is now later and while his public attitude on the whole thing may be accepting, they are in their private home. They won't be leaving for the honeymoon until tomorrow morning, and now both of them must face the music of Arthur's admittedly sweet coming out – and Merlin has to face it with an obvious limp that just speaks volumes of what occurred last night (and if that doesn't, Arthur self-satisfied smile will do).

Merlin sits up, wincing yet again, and begins to mentally prepare himself for the humiliation of Uther eyeing him with disgusted knowing and the undoubtedly harsh words that would ensue.

This, unlike the night before and many nights to come (and maybe days...), will not be pleasant.

* * *

_Ohmysweetjesus? *cowers behind hands* Did you like it? Sorry again about the complete style change. I will work on bettering the whole sex scene writing thing with these guys, try to mix that style with my usual writing style so that it won't be so awkward (IF) when I get to it in the series I mentioned before. (not sure if it will have a scene like this in it though, I may just do the same as what I did in skin deep. Not sure yet. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. _

_I'll proof read it later – sorry for any mistakes aha. _

_Blah, hope you enjoyed it. _


	18. First Love 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__AH! I am so bloody sorry! University and life is just crazy, but I have finally sat down and decided to write. This is only a drabble-ish piece. The original chapter 18 was supposed to the 'First Break' (like the whole Ross and Rachel thing in friends, but probably without the sex-with-a-stranger deal. Maybe...) but I can't find a way to write it. I will write it eventually, but it will probably be an 'extra' chapter at the end, which will feature a few one-shots in the same nature as the ones you've read so far of firsts I may have missed._

_I WILL UPDATE MORE REGULARLY NOW! Especially over my Christmas break which is from 12__th__ Dec – 23__rd__ January. I WILL HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO DO WITH MY TIME xD_

_Again, massive apologies for the long wait. And I hope to start and post a six-shot in the next week or so. _

* * *

**First [Love] **

**[1/1] **

They are sitting on the sofa in Merlin's home when Arthur actually vocalises it. His 18th birthday has just passed, and, wanting to escape the stifling atmosphere of his own home, Arthur had decided to crash at Merlin's. Hunith is out working and the two are just relaxing on the sofa, Merlin fully engrossed in the rubbish, low budget crime drama that is aimed strictly at the elderly and the unemployed.

But Merlin, for some reason, loves it.

Probably because he is simple.

Arthur glances at his partner, those limpid blue eyes focused on the TV as he tries to figure out, foolishly because he never does get it right, just who the murderer is. And in a lightening moment of complete girlishness, Arthur thinks, _damn, he is beautiful._

Elfin features, high, defined cheekbones and large doe eyes, milky white skin...

His hand reaches out and strokes across one of those prominent cheekbones, and Merlin jumps. He turns those eyes on his boyfriend with a questioning look.

"I love you."

Merlin blinks at the carefully casual tone of Arthur's voice. Merlin settles back against sofa, coughs and says: "Yeah, me too," before refocusing on the TV, a small smile on his face.


	19. First Home 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Sorry I've taken so long, but I had forgotten how busy Christmas time is. That and I have been doing lots of planning for fics and have multiple ideas. Speaking of noting down ideas, I do have a favour to ask which is explained at the end of this 'chapter.' You don't have to help out but it would be appreciated._

_This story only has three more chapters until its 'official' end, although I think it will say 'Completed' it will be unofficially incomplete, because I already have at least two extra chapters that I may or may not write about. But yeah. _

_Anyhow, enjoy (: _

* * *

**First [Home] **

**[1/1] **

Merlin is only a few mocking comments away from throwing the entire idea of moving in with each other away and going back home. Over the course of two weeks he and Arthur had looked around a multitude of flats and small houses, Merlin purposefully avoiding the ones he knew he could easily afford to those that would stretch his budge perhaps a tad too thin but maybe sustain Arthur persistence in perfection, only to have each and every choice sneered or scowled at. Whilst Merlin's job as a raising journalist under the watchful gaze of an old family friend, Gaius Wilson, earned him enough to afford half on rent and bills – but only if they picked a reasonable flat.

Even now, as the oblivious estate agent explains airily about space and a new skylight, Arthur's eyes shine in disdain. Of course, the flat is no penthouse with the perfect view of London, but it is spacious enough, two bedroom, with a large kitchen for a flat and with all the modern perks a man like Arthur can appreciate. But Merlin _knows_ Arthur, and despite the polite nods he gives the estate agent (a plain brunette who had allowed her gaze to linger far too long on Arthur on that first meeting for Merlin to be truly comfortable until Arthur coolly stated that two bedrooms would not be necessary), he knows Arthur is far from impressed. He is measuring this flat against his mansion of a home, critical of the lacking luxury he is used to – like the bathroom only having a shower rather than the monster bath on his bedrooms en-suite that Arthur has tempted Merlin into with promising touches and hungry smiles more than once.

And it infuriates him. Merlin understands Arthurs disdain, the man never has truly appreciated how the other half live, even when visiting Merlin's house during the course of their relationship. He has only ever known money for his entire and luxury and Merlin has forgiven him for his follies and pointless near-waste of money sometimes, but this is too much.

"What is wrong with _this_ one then?" Merlin hisses, with a scowl, prodding his lover in the side roughly. Arthur glances down at him as the estate agent rambles on in that false voice of hers. And Merlin swears he sees the shift in those eyes from the disdain at the prospect of living below his standards to something that is slightly condescending – the same look he gets when Merlin protests a particularly expensive and pointless buy. Merlin scowls.

"It's plebian, Merlin," Arthur says, gesturing around the open plan living room and kitchen. "Really, if you would listen to me – I can easily afford a place suitable for both us –"

Merlin holds up his hand, anger swarming his chest like a swarm of wasps. The implications makes his blood boil and a faint feeling of inadequacy creeps in. "No, Arthur," he bites out loud enough for the estate agent to pause in her sales pitch. "I am not your little woman who'll sit at home and cook whilst you earn a living. I have my own money, and I want to be able to pay my half of the bills and rent."

"But you don't _have_ to," Arthur argues, looking a little lost, unaware that he is poking at a wound in Merlin's pride and ego. "I have more than enough money to pay for everything and you can keep yours for whatever you need."

Merlin closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. He loves this fool. He loves him, he loves him, he loves him. He opens them again, and Arthur seems genuinely perplexed at his anger. "I know you have enough Arthur," Merlin says slowly. "But that isn't the point. I don't want to be _kept _by you. I want to be able to afford my own place, to contribute. If you pay for everything I'd feel – it just wouldn't be right, okay?"

Arthur frowns, barely noticing how the woman has edged away from the quiet argument. "Stop being stubborn Merlin, for gods' sake. I don't mind paying. I have the capability, you-." He falters and Merlin shakes his head.

"You are unbelievable. Really, you don't understand a damned thing, do you? This isn't about me being _stubborn_," Merlin snaps, hands fisted by his sides. Then his hands relax and Merlin turns away from his lover, navigating the furniture of the current residents.

"I'm sorry Sarah, but I have to leave. You can finish everything with Arthur I'm sure." And he smiles that perfect, friendly smile with only the slight darkness of his anger tainting the edges. At the woman's goodbye, Merlin leaves, barely sparing a glance at his lover as he marches out of the door, leaving Arthur to stare after him wondering just the fuck he had done.

* * *

"You are an idiot, Pendragon," Gwaine grins, with untold pleasure in his voice. Arthur glowers at him, swigging from his pint of beer. On his other side Lancelot only shakes his head, toying with his own near empty glass. The backdrop of the pub in the early evening grants them a little privacy – the annoying tune of the near-by gambling machine sounds at random intervals and a loud group of women just starting their evening out explodes to left of their table.

"All I did was suggest that I'd handle the finances."

Gwaine snorts into his glass. "Exactly," he answers unhelpfully. Arthur thinks the man may be taking just a little too much pleasure in this – although not as much as Gilli may be if his partner had chosen there over Gwen's.

"Gwaine," Lance's tone is admonishing but Gwaine just grins wider and shrugs.

"Another round?"

Arthur grunts, staring into the depths of his beer. Merlin – a beautiful and wonderful man but damn fucking confusing. And stubborn as a mule. Arthur barely notices Gwaine leave the table, or Lance's exasperated roll of his eyes.

"You wounded his pride Arthur," Lance says eventually. At the confusion in Arthur's newly interested eyes, Lance leans forward in his seat. "Someone like Vivian would love to depend solely on your income, but Merlin proud and honest. He doesn't come from our background, Arthur; he comes from a world where you have to work very hard to get anywhere.

"You told me yourself that during college and university the boy was working two jobs on top of his school work so he could afford everything as well as give his mother a bit of money – what you suggested probably made him feel a little like a charity case, inadequate."

Arthur's brow furrows. "But he doesn't mind when I buy him other things."

Lance almost pities his friend – the flaws of the obscenely rich. He shakes his head fondly. "Those are gifts ro small things like dinner," he explains. "They do not suggest that he is in need of charity or that he doesn't match up to you in some way."

Gwaine returns with two the three beers, disrupting the conversation and spilling beer on the already sticky table. "Figured it out yet?"

Arthur snags the beer closest to him and sits back into the seat. His thought mulled over what Lance had told him – how his suggestion to make things easier on Merlin by taking care of the finances to not only allow them a better flat, but to ease the stress that tightens his boyfriends shoulders whenever bills come in had been misconstrued.

He can understand it now, a little. Merlin was proud, but his pride was different from Arthurs. Arthur's was born from arrogance and the power of the Pendragon name (only later to develop into something more) whereas Merlin's pride was born from being able to make his mum smile, to achieve something and make something of himself. His pride came from making others happy and doing his bit, working towards the greatness Arthur had handed to him on a silver platter.

He hadn't thought Merlin would take his offer as an insult or charity, but he can see how someone like Merlin would take it like that. He swallows another mouthful of beer. He hates it when Merlin is angry at him, truly angry at him which Arthur suspects he is now. Of course, they bicker and knick each other with kitten claws, but rarely does Merlin's eyes fare like a fire of ice as they did this afternoon and Merlin certainly never ignores him or leave without a glance. Merlin is an idiot like that.

Arthur takes another mouthful of his beer. He wants to be annoyed at Merlin and his bloody sensibilities, but Arthur should've thought before he had spoken, Merlin always has been a little funny when it came to discussions about money between them. He never has cared that Arthur probably does have more money than sense, but he can be a little uncomfortable sometimes, like when Arthur splashes out on a dinner that costs more than his weekly wage or a new toy or gadget.

Arthur growls. "Damnit." He ignores his beer and stands, throwing a ten pound note on the table for his next round before leaving.

"Finally figured it out then?" Gwaine calls after him, Arthur pretends Gwaine doesn't exist, because then his life would be a little less annoying, and leaves to apologise to his idiot.

…And hopefully be rewarded in brilliant make-up sex.

* * *

This flat is actually the better of the lot that Arthur had been subjected to. It was stylish and modern, an attractive place that Arthur could – once he furnished it to his liking – perhaps see himself living in. It was towards the higher end of Merlin's price bracket, but Arthur had decided, after Lance's little talk and Merlin subsequent bitching until Arthur's worshipful kisses to his neck and wandering hands managed their magic, to honour Merlin's wishes to actively take a part in paying at least a third of the bills (although he still insists on half, even though Arthur has tried to bargain and barter).

As Sarah or whatever the woman's name is, distracts Merlin with business talk as Arthur eyes the rooms on his own, deciding just how he could improve this place. He may have be a bit sneaky when it comes to furnishings, try to steer Merlin away from buying the more expensive things like a settee or the television (Arthur would not suffer without his 50" flat screen thank you very much) but he supposes, as this has been the best of the lot and the penultimate place on offer in this area within Merlin's budget, he could handle living here.

He glances to Merlin, who is disappearing up a small hallway to where Arthur assumes the bedroom may be. The dark haired man pauses and looks around. Arthur detects a faint thrill of pleasure in Merlin's eyes before he turns away. Merlin likes this place – Arthur has seen the interested look in his eye in a few other places, but as this is the only one that Arthur thinks he can agree to (of course that could be due to his new enlighten but Arthur shrugs off the thought).

"Sarah," he calls before the pair can truly disappear, smiling at Merlin as he speaks, "tell the landlord, we'll take it."

* * *

_Right the favour. Well, after this is finished, Obviously I'll still have Kyrie, but I am rubbish at focusing on just one story, so I a few story Ideas to briefly run past you guys. And if you could tell me which you are most interested in, like rank them or something so I know what one to write next I will be eternally grateful :) The final order of the fics, I will put on my profile so you guys can know which fics will be written when_

_So, the options:_

_**1. Lust In Action:**__ AU. M. Supernatural/Romance. A six chaptered 'introductory' story featuring Werewolf!Merlin and Alpha!Werewolf!Arthur. The first in a long series of shortish (between six and 15 chaptered) stories following a wolf pack. Well feature the main ArthurxMerlin pairing, but also brief Merlin/Other and maybe Arthur/Other. (this already has three sequels loosely planned. Technically they were written out first, so this will be a short 'prequel' to them but whatever (: this did originally start as an original, but it isn't working so I thought I'd give these boys a go with it.)_

_Summary__: "Every story has a beginning. This is theirs."_

_**2. Grief Knits**__: Non-magical AU. T-M. Multi-chaptered fic. Angst/Romance. Discussions of suicide and death. ArthurxMerlin. Merlin is, looks-wise, in this fic more like the character Jethro in Doctor Who's episode of 'Midnight.'  
__Summary:__ "Two very different boys have two very different best friends. But when aforementioned best friends both die within a month of each other, both are looking for the very same thing: answers."_

_**3. Untitled**__: AU. T-M. Fae!Merlin. Multi-chaptered. Fantasy/Romance.  
__Summary: "__When Lord Arthur insults a prestigious fae lady, it's up to a member of her court to rescue him from her wrath." (To be improved later xD)_

_**4. Two Men and a Baby**__: Magical AU. T-M. Multi-chaptered. Humour/Romance. ArthurxMerlin, implied ArthurxOther.  
__Summary:__ "Or: 'The one time Arthur is silly and doesn't wrap his… well, you get the idea.'"_

_**5. All's Fair: **__Non-Magical AU. M. Older!Merlin. 6 chapters. Humour/Romance. ArthurxMerlin, a tiny bit of MerlinxGwaine.  
__Summary:__ "Merlin is sure it was his connection to Gaius that got him the job rather than himself personally, and his friendship with the CEO's son is how it keeps it. But Merlin is pretty sure that if he gets any closer to the eighteen year old, it isn't just his job he has to worry about losing."_

_**6. Untitled 2: **__Magical AU. M. Drug or alcohol abuse of some kind. Multi-chaptered. Maybe slight OOC!Arthur. Perhaps GuardianAngel!Merlin. ArthurxMerlin. ArthurxOthers  
__Summary:__ "There are so many ways to escape and Arthur has used them all to escape. Hidden in sex, drugs and alcohol lies a scared little boy who keeps searching for warmth. But perhaps salvation isn't so hard to obtain, even for the misguided of souls." _

_Thanks my lovelies. I wish you a very merry Christmas (if my plans to get the next chapter out for Christmas Day fails) and, if I don't post before the New Year (I should as I want this story finished by then, but I won't promise xD) a happy New Year. :)__  
_


	20. First Christmas 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__Here we go. I have two more chapters left officially. I will write them all tonight and post them over the next two days :) I'll be sad to see the end of this, but I am sure a few 'unofficial' chapters will turn up aha. _

_Thank you for sticking with me this far. After this is finished, I will concentrate on finishing 'Kyrie' than start 'Lust in Action' and its sequels, although I do have to edit it a bit from the original to a fanfic. In 'Lust in Action' I will say, there will be a sex scene between Merlin and someone other than Arthur, simply because I want to practice and I'd rather mess up an unimportant pairing than the main one aha. _

_Hope you enjoy. _

* * *

**First [Christmas]**

**[1/1]**

Merlin is bouncing in his seat as the clock hand approaches twelve on Christmas Eve. It's their first Christmas together – first proper Christmas, in their first, slightly-too-modest-for-Arthur's-exaggerated-overpriced-tastes flat and Merlin is _excited_.

It bubbled in his stomach as it did every year, like a champagne bottle fizzing before opening. It's a childish glee that warms the heart and soul and the stomach, that makes one giddy and smiley and jittery.

He had decorated the flat a few weeks before, whilst Arthur was working late and he admits, maybe the reindeer stickers on the windows were a little tacky, but it is Christmas, and the very essence of Christmas (for those not religious anyway) is an overabundance of tacky decorations. In Merlin's view anyway.

The Christmas tree is as large as could fit, creeping out of its corner a bit like a mutant and a disgruntled, slightly lopsided angel perched atop. Baubles of various colours glint in the low candle light that Merlin had lit just for the Christmas spirit. Tinsel, also of varying, probably clashing colours, sheds little pieces on the carpet and the presents they had stacked under there earlier. It really was an overdressed, ugly monster of a Christmas tree, but Merlin was proud of it.

Arthur's presents are wrapped pristinely, Merlin notes with a fond smile as he pokes his way through the pile, eyes flicking over to the ajar bedroom door where Arthur had retreated an hour or so before. His own are not so pretty – when it comes to wrapping, Merlin ends up covered in bits of stubborn tape, shreds of paper and probably a few little cuts from the scissors when he doesn't pay close enough attention.

Merlin glances at the still bedroom once more before leaning forward and shifting through one or two more presents. He picks one Arthur had gotten for his mother and stares at it pensively. He had told Arthur not to worry, that he would get something for his mother from the both of them, but the fact he had also gone out to get her something on his own is sweet. And it is that side of Arthur that others miss and misunderstand.

He replaces the present and leans back on his palms, gaze sliding over to the clock. He grins to himself. Five more minutes until he is actually allowed to open presents without Arthur giving him a disapproving look.

He smiles again. Their first Christmas. Before Merlin hadn't even been able to see Arthur on Christmas day – Uther was adamant that it was a day for _family only_, and so their celebrations would have to be held either Christmas Eve or Boxing Day, or sometimes even a few days after that if Arthur was stuck with relatives with no out.

But not this time. This time, they will get to wake up together (Merlin is planning on demanding one present to open at midnight then relent and sleep) they get to open presents together, they will get to mess around and eat the food Arthur would usually veto from the shopping list before going to Hunith's for Christmas dinner and endure the Pendragon clan in the evening.

It would be one of the best Christmases yet.

_Ten._

_Nine. _

_Eight._

Merlin hopes Arthur won't be too annoyed if he is a bit overenthusiastic with the camera.

_Seven. _

_Six. _

_Five._

The Pendragons are not all a bad bunch, Arthur said to him. He hopes to find a few down-to-earth people there.

_Four. _

_Three. _

_Two._

He prays to god that Arthur will like his presents and if not, he will have to get real creative.

_One. _

"Arthur!" Merlin springs up, storming towards to the bedroom at a speed and throwing open the door and flicking on the light. Arthur starts on the bed, but Merlin is already on him, straddling his waist with a near manic grin with his hands either side of Arthur's head (the blond man can't suppress the initial spark of something at the position). "Get your fat arse up, it's Christmas!"

Arthur glares at him sleepily, shifting a little under his lover. "You are a juvenile."

"You love me."

Arthur frowns a little. "…Are you insinuating I'm a pedophile?"

Merlin grins. "You did mention a school uniform once…"

"Go away Merlin, I was sleeping. Happily."

Merlin shakes his head. "Now you're awake and I get to open one present. You as well, if you want." Arthur sighs, staring up at his dark-haired lover and shaking his head with a smile.

"Fine." He taps Merlin's thigh with a muffled "off" before leaning over to his bedside table and pulling open the drawer. Merlin followed the movement easily, falling onto his side of the bed, sitting cross-legged. "Here you go, idiot." And the blond throws a small parcel to Merlin, who fumbles to catch it, dropping it into his lap and grinning at Arthur's snort.

The box is suspiciously small, and Merlin would be stupid not to realize that the box is small enough to house either a pair of earrings or a ring. And Merlin doesn't have pierced ears.

He looks at Arthur curiously, long fingers working under the folded paper. Arthur looks back with an expression of quiet anticipation. Merlin returns to his hands and he slides out a small box. He chews his lip and with another glance at Arthur slides it open.

There resting upon a blue cushion is a beautifully simple titanium ring, with a singular small round diamond*. Merlin plucks it from its seat with a look of surprised awe. He stares at it for a while, finally noticing something on the inside of the band.

_From a prat to his idiot._

Merlin's grin is blinding and he slides it onto his right ring finger.

Arthur coughs. "Yes, well… maybe at some point you can switch that to your left hand," he says as nonchalantly as he can and shrugging. "No promises though."

Merlin laughs, and throws himself at the man once again, capturing his lips in a delighted kiss. "Thank you," he whispers. "Thank you so much. It's…well. You know it's brilliant, you git."

Arthur smiles softly, pulling his lover against him and kissing him again. "Merry Christmas, Merlin."

"You too, Arthur." There is a slight pause. "I love you."

"Ditto idiot. Now sleep, you can thank me appropriately in the morning." His wiggling eyebrows ensure that it isn't the average customary thanks he is angling for.

Merlin laughs and slides under the sheets, allowing Arthur to pull him into position against him and grinning like a fool.

* * *

_This is the kind of ring I had in mind: http:/ .com/ product/ T944DV1080V1P _


	21. Last Seperation 1:1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC._

_**Notes: **__And here is the last chapter. I was going to do another one called "First New Year" but I figured that they would've had plenty of New Years together, even if Uther is an arse. I have a few planned for unofficial chapters, which I can't add in now without messing everything up, but they will be slow to come, so even though it says its completed it isn't truly. Maybe a New Years one will be in that. I don't know.  
But it is finally the end. I will now concentrate on 'Kyrie' and my rediscovered interest in 'Wheel of Fortune' before starting on 'Lust In Action' when 'Kyrie' is finished. _

_Thanks for sticking with me on this. I appreciate it. :)_

* * *

**Last [Separation] **

**[1/1]**

He is one of the last few left of the old gang. Gwaine's hard and fast lifestyle caught up with him when he messed with the wrong man's girl. Leon died in a car accident, Will had a heart attack, Freya slipped and Gwen succumbed to cancer after a long, exhaustive fight.

Morgana stands beside him now, glamorous even now, on the wrong side of seventy. Beautiful, looking at least twenty years younger. A high end fashion designer in the end, her business turned over to her equally successful daughter as her genius son sets to take over the scientific world, unable to attend but sending their sincerest condolences. They made up for their absence today by helping with the arrangements a few days

Lance is also with him, wheelchair bound with limited mobility. The curse of the old, he says with a grin. Active enough in his younger years to suffer the inactivity of now, he smiles. Brave – the ghost in his eyes after Gwen died still apparent. He misses her, as they all did. The lingering pain is hard to witness but he can understand him more now. His daughter, son-in-law and grandsons stand sombre beside him.

Gilli is also here, quiet support that he never expected. He had his own lifelong partner now, a nice man called Benjamin who was gentle and not at all jealous of Merlin and his close relationship, or the lingering affection in Gilli's eyes.

Arthur too had gotten over that in time. The benefits of being together for a lifetime.

Not that it mattered now, for Merlin lay ahead of them in an open, beautifully crafted oak coffin. His weathered and wrinkled face a picture of peace, and it break Arthur's heart. There had been no dramatic passing for Merlin, not that Arthur expected there to be one. He wouldn't want to put any one out or cause undue stress after all. He just never woke up one fine spring morning.

And Arthur couldn't be mad at him for that.

Arthur sighs, tears burning his eyes but he refuses to cry. Maybe later, in the darkness of their home, but not here. Merlin wouldn't want tears, and so he will hide them from him.

Why break tradition? Only this time, of course, Merlin isn't there to suss him out, scold him then hold him on those few, rare occasions.

He sighs again.

There is a thrumming ache in his chest that hasn't left since he realise that while Merlin was still warm, he wasn't breathing. It's an emptiness that hollows out his chest and makes his heart sluggish and reluctant. He knew they weren't immortal, but he never thought one of them would leave the other. Especially not that Merlin would leave him – surely it would have been the other way around. Arthur always was more selfish, he was certain his nature would carry through to death, making sure he could avoid pain by being the first to go.

But then he couldn't truly say he'd have wished this throbbing, echoing nothingness and singular sharp pain on his lover. Not really.

He had wished they would've gone together.

He swallows, hands shaking with more than old age as he approaches the coffin. Arthur has a nice plot of land picked out in the family plot, with an equally nice spot beside him just for himself. He made sure it wasn't so close to his father, nearer to Ygraine, who had loved him like a second son.

He reaches the coffin and closes his eyes for just a moment before glancing down.

So peaceful in his eternal sleep Merlin looks. He is dressed nicely, his white hair as disruptive as it had been when they were young. The lines around his face speak of a life well lived, Arthur likes to think, as he touches his hand to the cold one of his lover. Merlin had never had the warmest of hands – too slim to retain much heat but Arthur had never minded. It was just another excuse to get closer.

Arthur closed his eyes once more. Just two weeks ago, Merlin had been happily playing great-uncle to Lance's grandsons. He had been engaged in a rather one-sided but interesting conversation on physics with Mordred, with Morgause deciding the spring collection with her mother. Just two weeks ago he had been alive.

Arthur released a shaky breath, leans over and presses a soft kiss to cool lips.

"You just had to leave me, didn't you?" Arthur whispers. "Couldn't even give me a warning. Didn't give me a chance to talk you out of it." He pauses. "Or letting me come with you." He smiles grimly.

"I'll miss you," he continues. "Miss you so much." He rubs a hand down his face, glancing at the others waiting to give their last respects to an old friend. He brushes hair from Merlin's face, a needless gesture. "It hurts a fair bit," he whispers, words cracking now with tears blurring his vision. He'll blame it on horrible lighting and worsening sight due to age. The others won't believe him but they'll allow him his lie, his stupid pride, just as Merlin would.

"They want me to say goodbye," he confides quietly, carefully pacing his words so that horrible lump in throat won't interfere. "But I won't, because it's not. It's temporary separation, that's all. We've suffered those before; we'll do it again now.

"It's _not_ goodbye."

Arthur lets his head duck down for a moment, a hand dragging down his aged face.

"It's not goodbye Merlin, not between us, _never_ between us. It's farewell. It's 'I'll see you later' because I will." He presses a kiss to Merlin's forehead. "No partying with Gwen and the others up there just yet. You wait for me."

He turns away then, shoulders broad and tense, blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears but quietly comforted by his own words and own conviction.

It only takes five more years before another tombstone is added to the Pendragon lot, far away as Uther's as is polite, close enough to Ygraine to signify preference and right next to the other most recent addition, so close that the marble slabs rub shoulders, marked in identical golden script, baring to the world that both loved and were loved until the very end and beyond.

* * *

_And it's the end. Officially. xD Thanks again for all your support. I hope that what you just read wasn't disappointing or anything and I hope to see you all again soon :)._


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